


Tonight He Grins Again

by attractedtokitchenware



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Heavy Angst, Metahumans, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-22 12:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attractedtokitchenware/pseuds/attractedtokitchenware
Summary: Still, he is my only friend. And tonight? He grins again.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> all chapter titles and works titles are derived from the song Tonight He Grins Again by Savatage.

****

 

There's rain pattering against the window, quiet, but loud enough to cover the sound of the sobbing coming from the corner of the room. There is little else that disturbs the small space, save a spider that crawls between the dresser and the wall. The child does not know it’s there; probably for the best, she has an immense fear of spiders. 

 

Lightning flashes across the window, causing a flinch in the small girl. She would have closed the window long ago, but she was scared. Any movement, it was so loud, and the man yelling for her would be able hear. She won't risk it. She refused to. Her legs hurt, her lungs squeeze tight, and her nose has not stopped running since the night began, but she _will not move_. Every feeling she has screams at her not to move, and she will listen to that voice, because the voice of her body will only cause her more pain. She would rather be sore in her muscles, than have to deal with another dislocated shoulder. Or a broken hand. 

 

The young girl closed her eyes, in hopes that the pounding of her gut will fade and she will not crush the hinges on the door hiding her from the world.

 

_ He does it because he’s scared. _ She thinks.  _ That’s what mommy used to say.  _ But ‘mommy was wrong. She was scared too and she still hurt me.’

 

Her thoughts rage on, an argument against herself, one she knows she can not win. It hurts her, more than the oncoming headache; not from the voices, but the tears. The tears won’t stop, and her head is beginning to protest. There’s nothing wrong with them though, they’re silent, as her sobbing has tapered off into soft hiccups. The rain is quieting down now, so that means that she has to as well. As she does, her name rings throughout the house, a name she never wanted and one she cannot live up to.

 

The young girl looks up at the clouds, hoping to see a star. None shine through the curtain of clouds. So, instead, she decided to ask the clouds for something. She asks of them a task that should not be asked of clouds, but they travel and stars do not. Perhaps, she thinks, her wish will reach someone sooner and she will be rescued. 

 

It does. The wish, made from Finland in a small house, a house full of malice and unwanting, the wish reaches a man with an agenda, an agenda that only the best can fulfill. A small child, perhaps. A girl, perhaps. One competent  and powerful enough to push the agenda far enough to defeat any who oppose them, or any who are too stupid to see their true intentions. 

 

A thousand miles away, is the mountain where Ra’s al Ghul sleeps, but it is almost as though he can feel the wish being made. A wish to be saved. Ra’s pushes himself out of bed and moves swiftly, gathering his suit and dagger, inhaling a bit of the smoke rolling off of the incense burning in the corner of his room. The mirror to the corner that his hero is crying in. 

 

She doesn’t know it yet, but a monster far worse than her father is about to walk into her life, only this one will teach her rather than hinder her. The little girl, only six, and months away from being seven, feels the magic inside of her well up, and begs to be released. She cannot control it though, so she will be in trouble. Her mind aches worse, the tears ebbing but the power refusing to do so. Her father yells once more. Her name. He has always said it wrong. He says everything wrong, and because of it he cannot move forward in the country. 

 

He cannot speak Finnish and the girl does not speak English, but she understands her name. Can hear it roll off of his tongue in a sour tone, in a sour light. That is not her name. Her name means  _ hero _ . Her name will save her, the meaning will. Her mother always said so. But the man wandering around the house, yelling and bumping into the walls, he made her this way. It should have been him in that car accident. 

 

The little girl clutches the necklace that hangs low on her neck. Blue tendrils of energy whirl around it, almost elegantly. There’s a rawness to it that scares her, though, something that she refuses to push further than the necklace. The once she’d taken off of her mother’s body. 

 

The door smashes open, and all thought and logic flies out the window, into the dying storm. Her father traipses about the room, searching for the girl inside the room, but she’s hidden in the dresser, the cabinet closed around her small body, hiding her from the terror of her father. In his drunken haze, however, he opens the cabinet and grins. The storm whips about outside, and lightning flashes, followed by thunder. He rips her from her hiding space, and upon seeing the blue tendrils of  _ magic _ , her releases her small body and moves away as though she were infected with the plague. The little girl screams, causing the ring on her father’s finger to dilate dramatically. The man hollers in pain, and the ring squeezes tighter. He fights to get it off, but it continues, tighter still. There was a squelching sound, and her father screamed in agony. His finger lay on the ground, not far from where he’d fallen on his knees. 

 

The toddler girl stared at the finger, too shocked to scream. An idea clicked in her head; all the anger inside of her boiled up, and she lashed out. There was a picture in the hallway, one of her and her mother. The frame rattled against the wall and then flew off, it smashed against the wall, shattering the glass in a futile attempt to get close the crying girl. She, however,  pulled the metal in the frame around and flung it toward her father, killing him instantly. She broke down in sobs. 

 

The next morning, the storm subsided. The girl did not attend school, and her now dead father did not answer his telephone when called about work. The police arrived just as the little girl was growing hungrier and hungrier. They took the scared little girl away, convinced that she could not have killed her father. She was just a child. 

 

The girl was sent to a church to stay, given her mother’s religion. None adopted her, and the nuns feared her, in a way. There were whispers of a  _ curse _ . A  _ curse  _ she did not know the cause of and did not wish to. 

 

One day, months after her father’s death, after her birthday had passed and she turned seven, a man came for her. A man with a funny mustache, and a pretty jacket.

 

Ra’s al Ghul had come for his  _ hero. _


	2. Time, Time, Time Again

The boy in front of her falls to the ice once more. 

 

“Wrong! Again!” The woman swings the sword in her hand as the boy in front of her stands, and prepares for another round of fighting. 

 

The ice cracks beneath his feet, while Kalevi’s feet staying light and the ice beneath them only sounds off when she scrapes her boot against it. “Now!” The boy lunges forward, feigning left, but Kalevi sees it first. She uses her gauntlet to take hold of the blade, and twists, causing the blade to snap. She turns on her toes, light as air, and presses her katana into the boy’s neck, mere inches from his pulse point. “You’d be dead if we were enemies.” Kalevi flicks her wrist, leaving a small cut on his chin. “Go back to headquarters. If you’re lucky I’ll continue to teach you in the morning.”

 

He gathers himself, and hurries off of the ice. From the hill, Kalevi hears a dark chuckle. Ra’s. She turns to him, smiling. “You’ve taken much from me, my daughter.” While a grown woman with enough memory to know that Ra’s is not her father, she has never considered him otherwise. After she killed her own, Ra’s took the role, and filled it much more accordingly. Kalevi smiles. 

 

“Is that why he lost today? Because he knew you were watching and I did not? Perhaps I have taught him something.” The two share a laugh. 

 

“I taught you well enough, dear Kalevi. You knew where I was. You just don’t get stage fright anymore.” Ra’s smiles at her, beckoning his daughter forward. The two walk in sweet silence for a moment, the snow shifting and crunching beneath both of their feet as the move. After a while, Ra’s begins to talk once more. 

 

“I am going somewhere soon, Kalevi. However, this time, I’m not leaving one of my men in charge.” The older man places his hand on Kalevi’s shoulder, bringing her to a halt. “I want you to take charge while I am away, sweet daughter.” Her brow creases softly, but she allows it to relax after a moment of thought. Slowly, she nods. 

  
  


“It would be my great honour, father. Long have I wanted to take charge of the League while you were away. I am glad that you finally see fit to do so.”

 

Ra’s nods as well, smiling with his daughter. The pair moves on through the snow, as a fresh storm moves in. 

 

Kalevi is not bothered by thunder anymore. The League, nay, Ra’s, taught her to get over her fears. Day after day, of training during her childhood, until finally she turned sixteen and was given her rite of passage into the League of Shadows. 

 

_ The floor is cold on her bare feet. As cold as the snow outside on the ground. Kalevi felt a shiver run down her spine. She suppressed the shaking that meant to accompany it. Show no weakness in front of your enemies, Kal. So she did not.  _

 

_ The bowl, smoking now, was handed to her. Ra’s instructed her to inhale. She followed his order; shortly after, the edges of her vision began to grow foggy, and each thing she focused on turned and screamed at her. Kalevi flinched. Her greatest fears, come to life, and with tunnel vision no less.  _

 

_ She looked ahead, to the swinging pendulum she could now see. A hallucination if ever there was one. Though, it was no regular pendulum. The chain it hung from was rigged, and at the end, the true pendulum, was in the shape of  a crescent. Inscribed in the makeshift moon, in blue topaz, was the word ‘Sankarini’. In english, it meant ‘my hero’. Her mother’s dying gift to her daughter. Kalevi felt like screaming. Ra’s called to her, instructing her to keep her guard up. The young woman struggled, but she did just that. The fight began.  _

 

_ With ease, those who had joined the League before her lined up and blocked her path to Ra’s. Despite the pendulum swinging in the center of the room, or the sound of thunder in the recesses of her mind, Kalevi moved forward, her energy searching out her master’s blade. The metal felt different to her, familiar. The others around her were not ones she had fought before, nor had she bonded with any of them. However, Ra’s had been clever; the blade he held was not his own, as she soon discovered. The continuous hum she felt from him was different as well, as though he’d learned that she used that against him. It was all falling apart so fast, and the pendulum swung faster. Her heart rate sped up.  _

 

_ Breathing suddenly became a task, rather than the regular flow of her life. For all she had learned, the fear built in her childhood was one she had not mastered, nor was she sure she would ever escape it. It was suffocating.  _

 

_ Ra’s voice called out to her again, taunting. Teasing. Kalevi whirled about to meet his blade, making him grin with pride beneath his mask. She, instead, scowled. Her strength was not at its highest, and with her heart racing, she could only pray that she would be pushed into an adrenaline rush soon enough to defeat Ra’s. Still, it did not come.  _

Perhaps this is part of the test.  _ She thought. She would have to ask Ra’s, if she survived. As soon as she pushed back hard enough, though, Ra’s retreated. No victory, for now. Her prowling continued with the shift of the soldiers around her. Once more, she used her energy to search out for Ra’s, and found nothing. In her distraction, Ra’s snuck past her and sliced at her abdomen. Kalevi hissed in pain, but continued on. The pain rang out in her mind amidst the chaos of her fear; as soon as it came, however, it was shouted over by her mother.  _

 

_ A monster, she’d been called. A child that made her mother afraid. Her hand clutched at the space where her necklace was, and the pendulum seemed to pulse. It entranced her, swinging faster, and faster, faster still. The words began to sound in her mind, a  _ **_reminder_ ** **.** _ The edges of the crescent pulsed outward, but none were affected by it. Why couldn’t they see it? What was wrong with them?  _

 

_ It was not the soldiers around her, that had the makings of going insane, but  _ **_her._ ** _ In spite of this, she turned away from the hypnotic object soon enough to catch Ra’s moving to land a killing blow. Kalevi met it with strong force, one hand freeing itself from the hilt of her blade to constrict her master’s armour, and pull him from her. He landed on the ground several feet from her, finding it difficult to move in the weighted metal around his chest. Kalevi put her blade to his neck, smiling.  _

 

“I win.” She muttered to herself. 

 

There were no others in the baths to hear her, though. None to wonder at what she had been thinking of prior. For this, she was thankful; her words were not just uttered at her final test, but she had truly won. With Ra’s al Ghul gone, a month now behind him, Kalevi found her one and only opportunity to disappear from the traces of the League of Shadows, something she had been aching for since she had killed the prisoner they’d brought in to finish the test. It was later revealed to her that the League often brought in innocents, given that few in the nearby village dared to commit a crime, for fear of the League that lived moments away; a constant death threat. 

 

Since that moment, Kalevi had been quietly planning what she would do if given the opportunity to escape, and now she had it. Her hands remain calm as the woman wraps a towel around her bust, and she goes over her plan once again in her head. Her things, essentials, are packed. Her weapons are hidden with her armour, which she will not be taking. Packing light, as things like armour only stood to hinder her travel, when she meant to be well out of the Asia by the time Ra’s returned with whomever it was that he meant to recruit. 

 

Time passed slowly as Kalevi took on her prepared clothing. Smooth black, boots held in her hand until she made it to the doors, and then from there she would don her winter clothing. 

 

Once the sun set, the warrior gathered her things, and left what she had considered her home. 

 

In the snow, Kalevi warmed herself with her furs, collected herself, and began to walk. The trek was cold and dangerous, and she often found herself unable to eat the salted pork she’d taken from the kitchens, for fear she would run out. The longer it would last her to the warm countries, the better.

 

It did; she had just enough to make it to the roads miles from the League of Shadows’ headquarters, and from there she relied on the kindness of strangers. She posed rather convincingly as a Finnish backpacker, as she never forgot her birth language, along with every other language Ra’s al Ghul taught her. Her disguises varied with each place, as her pack was filled with the materials sufficient enough to give her an entirely new identity. She didn’t want a new identity, though. She liked her name and her look well enough, she just wanted a new life. A new existence, free from the League of Shadows, free from Ra’s al Ghul, though she loved him so. Free from killing. 

 

In the country of India, Kalevi set herself up in a hotel, with enough contacts to get her into America with proof of citizenship and and passport that explained where she’d been for the last fifteen years. She paid a fair lump of gold to a pilot to get her into New Jersey unnoticed, and she would begin her new life as Kalevi Fischer, a girl with a Finnish mother and American father. This was not a lie, just manufactured to look as though she had been born in the country, with her full citizenship. Tax records had been fabricated, and she paid a man in Gotham, Falcone, with ties to the FBI to make sure everything went off without a hitch; and so far, the only thing she had to keep constant about her appearance, and as a rarity that would hopefully keep her an interesting person but not interesting enough to investigate, a single coloured contact in her left eye. Where one eye was a vibrant blue, the other was made a sparkling emerald. Her new identity was secure, and her escape from Ra’s al Ghul was complete. 

 

The sun rose the next day, with the market outside her hotel growing livelier by the moment. Kalevi glanced out the window with a smile. Her plan was working, and soon she would be free from the clutches of Ra’s al Ghul for good. 

 

After eating breakfast in the kitchens, and a happy conversation with the cook in French, Kalevi leaves, losing herself in the immersive crowd. Her hair is hidden beneath a black wig, as her stark blonde is far too recognizable. With each and every step, she began to feel lighter. 

 

Finally, she came to a long runway, stretching out to great grey fields, bare from the harvest that had come and gone while she traveled. The plane that sat at one end was in well enough shape, and by deduction of the man standing at one end with a very long hose in one hand and a pipe in the other, it would have enough fuel to get them to Europe, and then perhaps across the Atlantic, god be willing. 

 

She raised her hand to begin waving at her pilot, and new companion for the next days of her life. Her  _ new  _ life. 

 

The man, middle aged she supposed, given his voice over the phone, raises his hand to wave back with a smile. This gives Kalevi a bit of hope; if this man would be so kind to smile in her direction, hopefully she will find his presence bearable for the rest of their time together. 

 

She mutters a greeting in Finnish before correcting herself in English. “Hello, Mister Benavi.” She offers him a small bow, as though she’d been traveling in Eastern Asia, and had picked up traditions in her extensive time there. As far as Benavi was concerned, she had. 

 

“Please, call me Marcus. We’re going to be rather informal as it is, given your payment.” Kalevi smiles at him softly, nodding in agreement. After a conversement of how long it will be until they leave, she is just so anxious to see her family back in the states, you see, Kalevi waits for an hour, and is finally granted permission by Marcus to put her things in the biplane. They take off within the second hour of their meeting. 

 

The flight itself is not unnerving, but Marcus’s constant buzzing at her, at her history, and what she does and plans to do once she ‘returns’ to the States. She answers to the best of her ability, but finds it difficult given that she had not thought through so much. She had not expected such queries, from a pilot no less. Nevertheless, it gives her time to think about the things he asks her, and she realizes the gold in this situation. Ra’s taught her that. The thought makes her shudder. Not out of fear, but at betrayal. She’d betrayed the man that brought her in, housed and taught her how to defend herself, gave her a purpose. Here she was throwing that all away, because killing made her squeamish. Names flashed across her mind, of what they now call her. 

 

Kalevi snaps out of her daze and smiles at the pilot. He smiles back, before reaching out to her. 

 

Sensing the impending attack, Kalevi makes quick work of his hand, twisting it in such a way that held his forearm away from his back, but his arm was folded up rather uncomfortably. His finger flex, and Kalevi uses her own to pull them back. Marcus screams in pain. 

 

“The deal was you would take me to Jersey, nothing else. Now? You get half of what I offered you. Keep your hands to yourself,  hirviö.” And he does, for the remainder of the flight. When they land in France to refuel, Kalevi speaks to no one, only offering cold stares. She’s changed her wig since their original take off, and now sports a short cut bob with red hues. After another two hours, they take off.

 

Kalevi falls asleep with her hand clutching a dagger, the other in the shape of a fist around her mother’s necklace. Nightmares of the pendulum in the League’s headquarters wakes her, soon enough to find that a storm rages about the small plane. Marcus is attempting to keep the plane aloft, but Kalevi knows this better. This is a way of the League getting to her. She pulls Marcus up by his collar, forcing him back with a yell. “I know this storm better than you do. Sit down, and keep your mouth shut.” She orders. 

 

Soon, Kalevi has pushed the plane above the clouds and is monitoring every node and dial, as she should. 

 

“If you knew how to fly, why did you hire me?” Marcus stood over her shoulder, staring out at the clouds beneath them. 

 

“I didn’t want to pay for a new plane, and my gold can only get me so far without being suspicious, yes?” Her accent was beginning to show through; Marcus notices this, and while he does not point anything out, he remains with a perplexed look on his brow. He simply shrugs it off, though. 

 

Kalevi stands, offering his chair back to him. “Fly me to Jersey, and I will pay you. Never contact me again after that.”

 

Marcus does just that; he takes his place back in the pilot’s seat, and finishes the flight to New Jersey. Kalevi pays him his allotted amount and goes along her way. After reaching a certain destination, the woman takes a moment to remove the blonde wig, and replace both coloured contacts with only one. She practices with her accent, until she is sure it is the right amount of mixed that she desires, and that is believable for someone who has not been in the United States, much less Gotham, New Jersey, for fifteen years. 

 

With bated breath, Kalevi ventures into Gotham, reborn from the traces of the League of Shadows. 

 


	3. No One Seems To Be Around

 

 

The Yamaha. It cursed at her, and pulled her in before delivering a blow she could not recover from. A blow she wasn’t sure she  _ wanted  _ to recover from. Still, she wanted it in her home. The home her mother had once promised her, it was hers now. She’d taken a statement given to her by one of the people that had helped craft her new identity, and now, here she stood, a home that was paid off and full of furniture. Kalevi knew she would have to hire a maid, but money was no object. 

 

No, her attention was drawn much more closely to the bright red baby grand piano, sitting center of the room. Of course, she’d made no objections to this when she’d first seen it. In all reality, the piano gives Kalevi a sense of belonging, even though she hardly remembers a time when the sound of a piano did not give her some type of anxious reaction. She doesn’t let this bother her; not fully, anyway. 

 

Despite it all, Kalevi finds the new home calming. The walls are painted a soft maroon, not bright enough to irritate her eyes, the colour is reminiscent of that of a freshly bloomed rose. There is a bookcase, unfilled currently, but the woman plans on filling it with multiple novels in several different languages (the first of these is the Lord of The Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien in classic English, but that’s for later). There is a black sofa a mere ten feet from the baby grand, with a loveseat adjacent to it. A coffee table, engraved with the Tree of Life, sits before the sofa and the loveseat, the stain of the wood darkening it to match the rest of the house. The kitchen lies adjacent to the living room, with a full backsplash suggesting that the house had been ‘flipped’ rather recently. There is a proscenium-like structure leading out of the kitchen and into a wide hall, with two bedrooms, and a separate bathroom. At the end of the hall sits the master bedroom, with its own master bathroom. 

 

The house itself was small, and cozy, perfect for an unsuspecting, normal woman starting college with dead parents. 

 

Gotham University does not object, nor do they offer inquiry when Kalevi applies just after the start of second term. She has been out of country, dealing with her parents death and spending time with distant family, after all. Gotham University does not hesitate to put her into the classes they can, including her new major, Psychology. She receives her schedule one week after Christmas, and finds her supplies without hassle. 

  
  


The only issue she finds with Gotham, in fact, is the crime rate. It is not the Joker, or Scarecrow, or the Riddler that bother her, but the obvious effect each villain has on the children of the city. They run rampant, without much adult supervision, as though each adult is dead set on forgetting their children in favor of complaining about the Batman, and the villains that have risen since his coming. 

 

Nevertheless, Kalevi does what she can when she can, and at her greatest and utmost discretion, of course. She has no interest in becoming a vigilante, but does not care for bullies in the slightest. Her father was one, after all. 

 

The sun has set long ago, long enough to warrant Kalevi leaving her home and going for a stroll. Although it is the second week of January, the weather is nice enough that she pulls on a fur scarf and fingerless gloves, and goes for a coffee. The new house is not setting well with her habitual League training. Everything is too  _ soft. _ Lost in thought, the blonde finds her attention finally drawn by the sounds of a little boy coughing roughly, and the scuffling of feet, followed by a chuckle. “You can’t win against me, Riddler! I’m Batman!” 

 

Kalevi glances behind her to see a boy towering over the other; the one that had not so much coughed and given a pitiful cry for help. The bigger boy is wearing a metal belt. With an almost malicious smirk, Kalevi flicks her wrist, smothered in writhing blue energy, and pushes the boy to the curb. He looks up at the other, before running off. Kalevi strides over and offers her gloved hand to the boy. “Are you cold?” He nods vigorously. The woman frowns. “Here, hold this.” He takes her coffee, waiting patiently as Kalevi removes her scarf and wraps it around the boy. His chattering teeth quiets down. 

 

“Do you live around here?” He nods, pointing with both hands that are gripping her cup of coffee. The house is nearby, with lights on. Having just offered up her scarf, the Finnish woman takes her coffee back and grips the boy’s hand. “Come on. You’re mother and father must be missing you, yes?”

 

With this, she makes sure the way is clear before leading the boy home. His mother and father thank her profusely, attempting to get her inside for a proper thank you. She refuses, but gives her own thanks in return. 

 

Across the street, smiling deviously, is Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow cackling in his mind. As the door closes, Kalevi glances behind her, the sneaking feeling that the League had somehow caught up to her. Instead, her gaze lands on a man across the street. Even with her training, she can’t tell much from him other than his hands are tucked deep into his smoking jacket, and the scarf around his neck is not saving his nose from the cold wind that has now picked up. His rimless glasses glint in the soft light, and as he turns to walk away, Kalevi catches the small smirk on his lips. Her heart rate speeds up.

 

The next day, her classes started. Kalevi, being only a few years older than other sophomores, finds better company in the juniors and seniors, and, being a seasoned warrior with experience talking to grown men and women meant to kill her, the foreign woman seemed to know just how to make friends. By the end of the day, a man named Marcus had invited her to a party the following Friday. 

 

The plans were soon dashed as she walked into her next class, Psychology, with Doctor Crane. Kalevi, while striding through the halls while others streamed out of Dr. Crane’s class, had heard that the professor accepted nothing other than to be addressed as ‘doctor’. This is not what brought her to a halt upon entering the class; what did stop her, however, was the familiar smirk on the doctor’s lips. The smirk she’d seen disappear into the night after witnessing her use her powers. 

 

The hour passed quickly, and Kalevi quickly noticed the other women in the class sitting on the edges of their seats, infatuated with the doctor’s voice and movements. Truly, he was a very fluid man. His movements were precise, but each time he outstretched his arm, each point of his finger, flick of his eyes across his students, was purposeful. He did not waste time with pointless banter, or relentless picking on students, and when he did it was fully warranted. Throughout the hour, when one student was looking particularly engrossed in something other than the doctor’s lecture, he would promptly ask them a question pertaining to the subject. 

 

Doctor Crane wasted no time with rules, as each of them were adults and he expected them to act as such. Kalevi respected this. Ra’s was much the same, but he had been far more lenient with her. 

 

She must’ve grown a glazed look in her eyes, as Doctor Crane called her name, more than once it seemed, as the other students were chuckling amongst themselves. Kalevi stares at him for a moment before asking him to repeat the question. 

 

“What are the basic responses to fear? Of course, you seem to have already mastered the course, given that you found time to drift off while I was speaking, miss…” He trails off, looking for the piece of paper with the class roster. Kalevi answers before he can find it, however. 

 

“Fischer. Fear is a response to loud noises, or loss of support. Of course, this response can be adding to a multitude of feelings and actions. Cause and effect evolve, if you will. This is why we have many different phobias. And you shouldn’t treat me differently just because I have a foreign education leagues ahead of your other students. I want the full Doctor Crane experience.” Her smirk met his frown. 

 

“Very good. I’d like to see you after class, Miss Fischer. You’ve missed quite a bit from the previous semester and an understanding of basic fear responses is not going to save you when exams return.”

“Very well, Professor.” Other students snickered at her own response, though Crane did not bother to correct her. This confused the other students, but they did not know the conflict raging inside Jonathan Crane’s mind at the moment. 

 

_ This one, Jonny. Take her. _ Jonathan fought the urge to say ‘shut up’ aloud. Scarecrow, however, did not take the threat seriously. Jonathan spent the remainder of the lecture at his desk, stating that his students were to discuss amongst themselves the effect an excessive amount of fear had on the mind, as well as the body. He wrestled internally. 

 

Meanwhile, Kalevi more listened than spoke. Her mediocre knowledge of the blue flower from the League of Shadows would only get her so far during the class. The bell rang, and other students rushed off to put their psychology books and trade them for whatever subject was next. Kalevi, in the interim, stayed at her desk until the last student ushered themselves out of the classroom. It seemed all too convenient that Jonathan nor Kalevi had any classes following this Thursday lecture. He hoped it stayed that way. 

 

“Come here, Miss Fischer.” She walks forward, wary. Kalevi’s hand drifts to the latch at her messenger bag, ready to be on the defense the moment Doctor Crane makes any move against her. Scarecrow notices this, and laughs. Jonathan nearly grimaces. 

 

“Something wrong, Professor?”

 

“I like to be called Doctor, as I’m sure you’ve heard, Miss Fischer.” Kalevi lets out a soft laugh. “Fair enough,  _ Doctor. _ What is it that you would like me to do?”

 

Scarecrow screamed at him now, begging him to take her, bring her home, and make her see hallucination after hallucination, but Jonathan had a better plan.    
  


“I don’t want you to  _ do  _ anything for me, Miss Fischer.” Kalevi was growing tired of hearing the false name. “Please, Doctor, call me Kalevi. I hate my last name.” Jonathan cocks his brow quizzically, but he follows through on her request nonetheless. Doctor Crane stands up, his fingers splayed out on the papers of his unruly desk. Kalevi’s heart rate speeds up, and almost as if he can hear it, Scarecrow is on the edge of his seat. Jonathan’s plan might very well bring him a new test subject. He hisses in delight as Jonathan asks the woman if she would follow him into his rather large office.    
  


“Would you take care in performing a small experiment with me, Kalevi?” While she is perplexed and on the edge of terrified, Kalevi agrees. “Very well. I want you to catch the object I throw at you, Kalevi. I have only one stipulation. You cannot catch it in your hands.” 

 

The former warrior continues to stare at him with question in her eyes, thought the fear seems to be winning over this. She knows exactly what he means, and she complies. Jonathan cannot help the smile that creeps onto his lips when he throws a pair of scissors at her, and with an outstretched hand, Kalevi’s teal energy worms its way around the scissors and keeps it afloat in the air before grabbing it with her hand. “Satisfied?” She asked matter-of-factly. Doctor Crane smiles at her, but this grin is not one she had seen from him in the last hour; in fact, it was more akin to the smirk she’d laid eyes on the night before, when the light had illuminated it for only a moment. Kalevi begins to feel afraid, the grip on the scissors now accompanied once more by her energy. Doctor Crane sees this, and it only makes his grin widen.

 

“Are you afraid, Miss Fischer?” This pushes her over the edge, and she tosses the scissors across the room, narrowly missing Crane’s ear. Crane takes this as a response. “Good.” He extends his arm, and an odd smelling gas is released from somewhere along his wrist. Kalevi inhales without thinking, and before she realises, Doctor Crane isn’t Doctor Crane anymore. On his face is a mask, roughly stitched together, with two holes that allow the icy blue of his eyes to show through. At his mouth is almost an almost cage-like opening; from here, Kalevi witnesses blood pour from it. She screams, but this does not drown out the sound of  _ his  _ voice screaming her name, or the distant footsteps outside Doctor Crane’s door. She turns to open it frantically, but Doctor Crane, nay, the  _ mask _ is there, keeping her from doing anything to protect herself. 

 

He clicks his tongue at her, as if scolding. “We can’t have you leaving. Where would the fun in that be?” 

 

Kalevi grips her head, her screams dying in her ears, but she can feel her throat growing hoarse. Her power is wrapping itself around her, taking her necklace in it’s embrace and ripping it from her neck. The chain snaps, as though it were a dry twig underfoot. Something flies past her, and then it all goes black. 

 

**_Pick yourself up. You’re my daughter. You can do better than this._ **

 

**_No. No, I can’t! It’s too much!_ ** _ Everything around her is black, but something grow lighter. Ra’s al Ghul stares down at her in contempt.  _ **_I gave you everything, and you betrayed me by leaving. Don’t disgrace my honor like this, Kalevi. Do not forget your name._ **

 

She wakes up sweating, but her body is shivering. There’s water around her, with ice. Each movement leaves another piece of ice clinging to her body. This is her bathroom, though, and that offers her a small amount of comfort despite the memories and images flashing through her mind of blood, of metal, and the quiet rumble of thunder in her mind. 

 

Jonathan frowns at Scarecrow’s notes. Though messy, it appears that his dubious companion has found a new plaything. A student, no less, but she is no regular student; that much is clear. On the note are several scrawlings with question marks, and the psychologist in him wishes that Scarecrow had not taken the woman back to her home. Sure answers from fear were better than sheer guesswork, and Scarecrow knows better.

 

_ She is a metahuman. I could not subdue her long enough to get any answers from her. And she would not stop screaming. _

 

“I don’t care. You’ve been here long enough to know that neither of us can create the perfect toxin if you won’t keep someone around long enough to get answers.”

 

_ I could’ve killed her, would you prefer that? _

 

Jonathan flinched. On the surface, he did. There was now a woman running around the streets of Gotham with his fear toxin in her bloodstream and a knowledge of his identity. Scarecrow did not care, but if Jonathan lost access to his lab, there would be no more fear toxin. No more experiments.  _ Then  _ he would care. 

 

_ Don’t be so melodramatic, Jon.  _

 

“Just shut the  _ fuck  _ up for once!” He slammed his fist down on the desk with the chemistry set.  The glasses shook, as if in fear.  _ Good. _ He thought. After a moment of collecting himself, Jonathan sat down and removed his glasses. Scarecrow said nothing. 

 

When she finally collected herself, warmed herself up, and changed, Kalevi sat down at the Yamaha. This alone left her in tears, as memories of her mother playing for her while her father tried to hurt her in this lull were dredged up. Whatever Doctor Crane had given her, whatever she’d inhaled, she would get to the bottom of. 

 

The next time she saw Doctor Crane, however, was the following Thursday. She was still having nightmares, and the winter thunderstorm that rolled in did not seek to aid her at all. It was still thundering when she ran across the lawn to make it to the psychology department for her class. A panic attack was setting in, in contempt of her greatest efforts to ward it off. Kalevi refused to show fear in front of Doctor Crane again. 

 

The lecture was through too quickly, she felt, and with it her last shred of confidence faded. She stays behind, just as she did the last time, this time however, she remains unprompted. Jonathan is staring at her from behind his desk. He knows what is coming, or so he thinks. 

 

Kalevi stands and takes her steps toward the doctor. Jonathan makes no indication of movement. 

 

_ What is she doing?  _ Scarecrow hisses. Jonathan frowns in response to this, only diverting his attention from the entity in his mind when Kalevi stops in front of him. She is significantly shorter than he, which leaves him to believe one of two things: her mother was a drinker or a smoker during pregnancy, or she is just naturally short. Given the origin of her first name, he suspects the latter. 

Jonathan feels a stinging pain across his cheek, and then his tie is the only thing holding his head from the ground. “What did you do to me?” She growls. He laughs at her, but it’s not Doctor Crane. Whatever,  _ whoever _ attacked her, has taken control of his mind again. This one is not as gentle or clever as Jonathan Crane. 

 

“I’ve merely made you afraid, Miss Fischer. Do you find it unpleasant?” His tone grows darker, as do his eyes. Kalevi feels an absent weight at her neck as Scarecrow wraps his hand around her throat and changes their dynamics dramatically. He holds the upper hand as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the topaz jewel with her mother’s words inscribed on it. His grip on her throat tightens as he reads the inscription. “Would you like it back? I imagine you would, but, perhaps you should  _ earn  _ it back. After all, I know a secret of yours, and you know one of mine. I think it only fair that I keep a piece of leverage against you.”

 

Kalevi grunts in pain, reaching for the necklace with her power. Scarecrow feints letting it go, and she stops. He chuckles darkly. “As I thought. Come see me in a weeks time, here. If you agree to my terms, perhaps I will give it back to you,  _ ‘Sankarini’.”  _ The word in his mouth leaves a sour feeling in her ears. 

 

Jonathan returns and quickly gets off of Kalevi; she can see the change in his eyes, his demeanor. He stands and straightens himself. “I’d like you to leave, Miss Fischer.”

 

Kalevi rubs the tender skin of her throat before speaking again. “I agree to your terms.” She whispered. Crane cocks his head, while Scarecrow laughs in the back of it. 

 

“Excuse me? I don’t believe that’s what I told you.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 


	4. Lost In Search of His Own

 

_ “Come here, child.” Her shaking eight year old body walks forward,  but only because her body does not fear Ra’s in the way that her mind does, and so far, her mind has lost all reason. She is terrified, and there is nothing she can do.  _

 

_ “I want you to walk across the ice, and come back. That’s all.” _

 

_ She should be hopeful, but she is not. The ice has begun to thin, she has heard. The men talk about it, they talk about the approaching spring, and that soon the ice will be gone and they will not be able to train on it; but Ra’s does not seem to care. After convincing her, the young girl ventures out onto the ice, unmindful of her weight distribution. The ice cracks beneath her and -  _

 

“No! No stop!!  _ Stop!!! _ ” She roars. It does not matter, though. The toxin is already in her bloodstream and Scarecrow is across the room, writing furiously. 

 

“What do you see? What is it?” Kalevi’s hands are bound above her in rope and there are no metal objects in the room save for the doorknob. Scarecrow hates that these measures had to be taken, but Jonathan was growing soft around the woman and wanted nothing more than her safety. Well, what could be afforded to her, after all he was experimenting on her with a toxin that would surely tear her mind apart if she did not receive treatment. 

 

“The ice! It’s… it’s so cold…” Her voice has drained now, the screaming has quieted. It’s been three hours since her injection and still the effects have not worn off and she has not passed out. In the time that he’s experimented on her, Scarecrow has learned that Kalevi was not spending time with various family members since her parent’s death, but somewhere else. What, exactly, she  _ had  _ been doing, was still a mystery. The mention of ice only confused Scarecrow further. He would have to prompt Jonathan to inquire about her life. 

 

While he writes, and thinks, he misses the visual of Kalevi freeing herself from the ropes and falling to the ground. He hears her, though. And as he turns, Jonathan comes racing back to his consciousness, and rushes to her side. Her lips have turned blue and she is shivering. 

 

_ Peculiar. Write it down.  _

 

“Not now. She’s going into shock.” Jonathan scoops Kalevi’s shivering body off of the cold cement floor, and rushes her up the stairs and into the bathtub. He twists the drain and fills the tub with hot water; as it fills, he strips Kalevi and places her in the bath before leaving to collect his journal and a pen. He’s never seen the fear toxin work so well on a human, but he suspects that given her supernatural abilities, Kalevi’s body takes the serum so seriously that it forces her body into the situations she sees under influence of the toxin. 

 

Jonathan left the door to the bathroom open as he sat at the table in his kitchen and wrote down everything he could, until Kalevi woke up that was. After ten minutes, he stood to check on her. 

 

Kalevi hadn’t woken and cried so often in ages, not since her father died. Yet here she sat, in a cooling bath, stark naked, with her knees to her chest and tears warming her legs as they dripped down. She heard Jonathan’s footsteps in the hall long before he stands at the door, but she pays no mind to him. At the sight of her tears, and shaking body Jonathan smiled. The toxin was working wonders, but somewhere deep inside of him he didn’t feel the same excitement. In his gut, he feels guilty. He ignores the feeling. 

 

“Kalevi.” He says. She doesn’t look up at him. Jonathan removes his blazer with irritation bubbling up inside of him. “Kalevi.” He repeats. She still doesn’t answer him. He does not understand why. He rolls the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows, and kneels against the cast iron tub. Her sobs have subsided, but the shaking continues. 

 

_ The toxin is still affecting her. _ Scarecrow muses. Jonathan ignores him as he reaches for Kalevi, and places a hand on her shoulder. She takes a single glance at Jonathan and screams, pushing him back with her bare hands. He doesn’t move very far. 

 

In the previous weeks, between conversations with both Scarecrow and Jonathan, Kalevi dropped out of Gotham University, and all but moved into Jonathan’s home to work with him under the agreement that neither of them would share the other’s secret. The constant inhalation and injections of the fear toxin has left Kalevi’s muscles, built over so many years, to waste away. The atrophy has become so severe that Jonathan fears that sooner or later she will crumble under her own weight. He’s never cared before, and he still doesn’t understand why he cares now. Kalevi’s eyes widen, as though she realises what she’s just done. She begins to beg.

 

“Please… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Jonathan cuts her off with a soft shushing noise, and reaches his hand out slowly.

 

“It’s okay, Kalevi. Come here.” She stares into his eyes for a moment. 

 

_ This is Jonathan. _ She thinks.  _ His eyes.  _ She tells herself. This gives her the strength to take his hand, and he guides her out of the tub. “Here.” He’s seen her naked enough to know that scars litter her body, but even under the influence of a sedative, she says nothing. It’s almost as if she’s convinced herself that the incidents surrounding the scars didn’t happen. Or perhaps it’s the fear toxin, making her forget that they exist yet. 

 

_ You know what it is. The toxin’s dragging up old memories. Come on, Jonny. Put the pieces together.  _ Scarecrow hisses. “Mnemophobia.” He murmurs. Kalevi looks up, question in her eyes. Jonathan shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Come here, I’ll get you a towel.” His voice switches over to the tone he uses when teaching. Kalevi’s grown to hate that voice. Even after she dropped out of Gotham University, she continued to hear it each time he ordered her around. She couldn't take it anymore. 

 

She stuttered out his name, a once mighty warrior, brought so low. “J-J-Jonathan. Please don’t. No more.” He turns, his usually neat hair growing unruly. It’s been a few days since he’s showered, Scarecrow has done a fine job of making him work on the fear toxin with Kalevi. 

“No more what?” 

 

“No more… Memories.” She manages. Jonathan finally understands. She can’t take anymore fear toxin. It’s even begun to affect her abilities. She hasn’t been able to even turn a doorknob in days. Despite Scarecrow’s complaints, he agrees. Jonathan takes his time caring for her tonight, drying her himself, gently, and taking special care to make sure that she eats every bite of the soup he heats up in the microwave. It might not be the healthiest thing in the world for her, but he has his own fears, fears of cooking and ruining something so awfully that it makes her sicker than she is. He still doesn’t understand why he feels the way that he does; he’s never felt this way before. 

 

Kalevi looks up at Jonathan. He hasn’t said a word since the bathroom. Neither of them has, but she is starting to despise the silence. It’s allowing for her memories to continue to riddle her mind. So, she says the only thing she can think of. 

 

“They’re still coming.” Jonathan looks up her quickly, and, understanding what she’s saying, hurries to grab his notebook. “Tell me everything.”

 

So she does. She tells him what she sees, and what’s different and the same with each dose of the toxin. “The memories are constant,” she states. “And, I always hear thunder, and rain. If I close my eyes, sometimes…” Jonathan stares at her, begging her to continue. 

 

“Sometimes, I see the lightning.” He stops writing, looking at her with a small amount of concern. 

 

“What do you mean, ‘the’?” Kalevi looks at him, slowly realising what she’s said. She then shakes her head, refusing to say anymore. “Please, just… give me something to wear tonight. I want to go home in the morning.”

 

_ Stop her! _ It’s not the Scarecrow this time, but himself. Jonathan feels that he cannot allow her to leave; she is too weak, he rationalises. She might not survive, and that would make him feel bad. But would it? He doesn’t know. 

 

After a moment, Jonathan comes to a conclusion. He just wants to kiss her, that’s all. Her screaming has drawn his attention to his lips and now all he  _ and  _ Scarecrow want to do is kiss her. Yes, that’s it. So he does.

 

Kalevi is taken aback by his sudden movement. He grabs her by the forearm, his grip strong, and pulls her body against his. She can’t fight back, and she’s not sure that she wants to. She’s never done this before, never been kissed properly, and she wants to tell Jonathan, but there’s a fear that he’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing now. He’s nearly a foot taller than her, and it starts to register in her mind that she’ll have to step away from him to kiss him like she wants to. She doesn’t, though. She lets Jonathan make the first move. His hand finds its way around her throat, but unlike Scarecrow he doesn’t tighten his grip. Kalevi looks at him, almost begging for something,  _ anything. _

 

So he gives it to her. He leans down, and kisses her. He’s soft, and while the kiss doesn’t last long, he knows he wants more from her the moment he pulls away. 

 

Kalevi wants it, too; but some part of her is telling her no, that this isn’t right, and she is not in the right mind to be making these decisions, and for the first time in weeks, she listens to the internal voice. She looks down at her feet, almost like she were dejected, and turns away from Jonathan. Then, she hears his voice. A small plea. “Stay.”

 

“Okay.” Kalevi walks back up the stairs, and into the room Jonathan fixed up for her. It takes her three hours before she sleeps, and even then she wakes up at 4:00 am from another nightmare. She goes downstairs, in nothing more than a much too-large sweatshirt Jonathan bought for her at the grocery store. In her daze, she makes a half decent cup of coffee and sits in silence at the table until Jonathan wakes up. 

 

It’s only an hour, but it feels like an eternity. She’s hungry, but the fear toxin still circulating in her body prevents her from getting up. When Jonathan walks down the stairs, her coffee cup is only half empty, and cold. After an awkward moment of silence, he sits across from her. “Are you hungry?” 

 

Her reaction is delayed, but it’s still startling for the both of them. She turns her head quickly, fear in her eyes, but she remembers the tenderness he’d shown the night before, and she is less afraid. She nods softly. Jonathan stands, and makes her a bowl of cereal. He moves slowly, and cautiously; for this, Kalevi is extremely grateful. 

 

She stays silent while she eats, and so does Jonathan. When she finishes, she sees that he’s made himself a cup of coffee, and has not gotten ready for work. She tries to speak but her voice is still hoarse from the hours upon hours of screaming the night before. Scarecrow was in Jonathan then; he had refused to help her, delighted by the evidence of her agony.

 

“I’m staying home today.” 

 

In response, Kalevi creases her brow.  _ Why? _

 

Jonathan quiets for a moment, as though he is unsure how to phrase his next words. Then, he does. “To take care of you.”

 

Jonathan’s day revolves around Kalevi. He bathes her, and makes sure she takes a nap when that is over. Her exhaustion is as evident of her fear of the Scarecrow, and while Jonathan relishes this, he also hates it. For some reason that he can not grasp, the look of fear in her eyes makes him angry, instead of delighted. He intends to get to the bottom of it. Soon.

 

Kalevi wakes screaming for Jonathan. Not Doctor Crane, Jonathan. It was a rare day when she decided to call him that. In the weeks before, she’d only called him Scarecrow. For days, it was all she said, until Jonathan laid off of the toxin for an equal amount of days. Then, he’d gone right back to routine. Now, however, she was screaming for him, not Ra’s; not her father.  _ Jonathan _ . Nothing felt more foreign.

Nevertheless, Jonathan opened her door and sat at the foot of her bed. LIke a child, she held out her arms, begging him forward. He came, reluctantly. He took the small woman into his arms, and, in one fluid motion, laid her head on his chest and put his head against the headboard. Kalevi had not felt so vulnerable since her childhood. 

 

After a few moments, she spoke. 

 

“Jonathan?”

 

“Yes?”

Another passage of the minutes. Scarecrow was growing restless, and needless to say, so was Jonathan. “Promise me something?”

 

“Yes?” He repeated. 

 

“Promise me… Promise me you’ll never use the toxin on me again. Please.”

 

Scarecrow said no, screamed it, over and over again. Where else would he get a subject so close and under constant observation by a competent party?  _ Arkham. So shut the fuck up and stop whining. I’m making Kalevi off-limits to you.  _

 

_ You won’t keep it that way Jonny boy. Remember Granny? _

 

_ I didn’t give one single shit about her.  _ **_Her_ ** _? She’s off limits. For good.  _

 

“I promise.” He said quietly. Consequently, he fell asleep with Kalevi in his arms, and did not wake until her next nightmare. 

 

_ Images flashed before her, memories she could see only snippets of. The feeling of her first kill; the first time she fell in the ice. Every moment of sheer terror welled up within her until she leapt forward-  _

 

Screaming. Jonathan could hear her screaming and he did nothing. He watches, waiting for her to wake up; she always wakes up, why should this time be any different? Minutes pass, and Kalevi still doesn’t wake. She’s calling for someone, no, begging. Ra’s al Ghul. The name means nothing to him, but it’s a name she’s called for so many times that now his interest is piqued, and he makes a mental note to inquire about this Ra’s al Ghul when she wakes up; so far, it doesn’t seem like this will happen soon. 

 

Kindness gets the better of Jonathan, and he takes her shoulders and shakes her awake. 

 

“Kalevi, please. Wake up. Come on, now.” It takes her a moment, but she finally stops screaming and opens her now tear-filled eyes. She muttered his name in question before throwing herself around him. “Don’t let him back… I tried so hard…”

 

_ Get her off! You’re going soft, Jonathan, get her off! _

 

“No, no I don’t think so.” He whispered. Ignoring everything that was screaming at him to get this woman off of him, he couldn’t, in fact, would not, find it in himself to push her off. Her body was trembling, and when she had once been fierce enough to take the life from him with a simple flick of her wrist, she couldn’t now, and he was all she had. He  _ wanted  _ to protect her. Jonathan wanted to protect Kalevi. He would take on the world with his toxin to protect the weak woman in his arms.

 


	5. Late At Night The Strange Come Out

 

Kalevi hated talking. There was never much need for it with the League, so seeing Jonathan in front of her, clad in his neat black suit with a red tie, and pad and pen in hand, scared her. Not in the way that Scarecrow did, no, Scarecrow  _ terrified  _ her. Jonathan’s demeanor, however, had shifted from a man that might be interested in loving her, to a man interested in her  _ problems. _ Not  _ her.  _ It scared her, because she felt she did not know this version of Jonathan. He was already a layered man, and she felt that adding another layer to him was unnecessary. 

 

“I’m going to ask you a few questions-”

 

“No.” 

 

“Excuse me?” Jonathan uncrosses his legs and leans forward. She is still weak, and uncomfortable talking about her past just face-to-face with Jonathan, so she’d only agreed to talk to him while she stretched. “That you are stretching is peculiar enough, what more would you ask of me?”

 

“That you ask nothing  _ of  _ me.” She does not look up at him as she pulls her leg in and leans over. Her voice is strained, but that doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. It does, however, irk Jonathan.

He scoffs. “That’s hardly fair.”

 

“If this were the other way around, you would not think so.” Jonathan grins. “And why is that?”

 

Kalevi glares up at him. “I told you no questions.” Scarecrow laughs.  _ She’s feisty, that one. I think I should like to keep her around.  _ Jonathan pushes his quip of a remark back down his throat. This time, is meant for Kalevi. 

 

“Can I say  _ something _ ?”

 

The white haired woman laughs. “Not until I am finished.” He agrees, albeit reluctantly. 

 

“My name is not Kalevi Fischer. It’s Kalevi Virtanen, and I am not an American citizen. My mother gave birth to me in Finland, where I lived until I was seven. When I was very young, however, I began to pick things up. Not with my hand, you see, but with my mind. My energy. I was young, so my mother used to tell me it was magic. She was afraid of me, but she never hurt me herself. She…” Kalevi stops talking for a moment, and looks at Jonathan, who is writing. It appears to her that he is just writing down bullet points, as though he meant to diagnose her with something. Kalevi continued.

 

“She would play the piano, to keep me calm, and my father would attack me.” Her voice catches in her throat, and Jonathan stops writing. “Can you keep going?” It’s not a question meant to come out as though he cares, but a request. When she looks into his eyes, she sees Scarecrow for a moment, and then it’s back to Jonathan the Therapist. Slowly, she nods. 

 

“My mother died when I was five. I took the topaz necklace from around her neck and left with my father. One night, when he was…” Another hitch in her breath. Jonathan continues to write. “He was drunk. More so than usual. I was hiding. There was a storm, and my window… the curtains were pulled back so I could see the lightning.”

 

_ That explains the astraphobia. _ Scarecrow mutters in anger. Jonathan shakes his head, as though trying to rattle the entity to shut up.

 

“I killed him. My power, it took the picture from the hall, it shattered, and it… I slit his throat with a picture of my mother. When the police came the next day, there was no sign of forced entry. No fingerprints. Everything pointed to me, but I was a child. There was no way, they thought.” There are tears streaming down her face. In a moment of tenderness, Jonathan the Therapist disappears and the real Jonathan is in front of her, wiping her tears with his thumb. Kalevi turns her head away from him. “You’re not a bad person, Kalevi. He was going to hurt you.”

 

The woman falls, resetting her legs in the position that they should be in. Disregarding the wrinkles that will surely plague his suit later, Jonathan pulls her into his lap. 

“It wasn’t my last, though. You don’t understand, Jonathan…” She’s fighting back sobs now, and the man holding her flinches when she nestles further into him. “There are things I did, things I let happen. I can’t take them back and they haunt me every night. The toxin… it only made things a little worse than they already were.” 

 

_ So she was a doomed patient from the start. _

 

“She’s not a fucking patient.” Jonathan murmurs. Kalevi doesn’t hear him over her sobs.

 

_ Then what is she, Jon? _

 

“I don’t know.” He responds.

 

Kalevi doesn’t move for almost four minutes, and when she finally does it startles Jonathan. He’d grown far too accustomed to stroking her hair as she fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt. 

 

With a heavy sigh, she speaks. “I can keep going. I’m okay.” He knows this is a lie, but doesn’t say anything, like a real therapist would. 

 

“A few months after I killed…”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“A man came for me, in the orphanage. I hated it there, so he took me. He took me into the mountains, and picked a flower for me. It was blue, and, at the time I think I said something along the lines of  _ se haju hauskaa.  _ That means ‘it smells funny’.” She chuckles at this. Jonathan smiles as well, and Kalevi’s heart skips a beat. Not out of fear this time, but something else. Something she’s not sure she appreciates, but all the same the feeling in her stomach makes her feel a little better. 

 

“His name was Ra’s al Ghul, and he was like a father to me.” Another sigh leaves her. “I loved him more than my birth father, more than my mother. But he gifted me with the worst memories I have. Your fear toxin… I don’t think I’ll ever really recover now.” Jonathan feels a mixture of pride and guilt at this. Scarecrow is pure pride, and he almost takes control just to boast.

 

Jonathan lets slip a question. “Why did you leave his company?” 

 

Kalevi glares at him. “The League of Shadows became my family, but only after I completed my Rite of Passage. Each Rite is the same, but it is different.” Her accent is growing thicker, as though she’d never truly outgrown it after learning English. “I was sixteen. Ra’s had had me for eight years, possibly nine. I have a hard time remembering anymore.”

 

She shifts, crossing her legs. She does not look up at Jonathan, it’s like she refuses to look him in the eye for this part of the story. “In the Rite of Passage for the League, you face your greatest fears and Ra’s al Ghul head on. We burn the flower you pick at the base of the mountain, and the one performing the Rite must inhale the smoke. It’s a hallucinogen, you see.”

 

“What did  _ you  _ see?” 

 

This seems to be the only question she allows, because she answers him head on. “I saw a pendulum. The pendulum of my mother’s necklace.” She reaches for the necklace that is not there; Jonathan still has not given it back to her. “It swung closer, and closer to me, and I could hear the thunder and see flashes of lightning. I could hear my father’s voice calling for me, and yet I still fought. I fought Ra’s al Ghul and I won. I became a part of the League.”

 

Jonathan disregards her rule at the beginning and asks another question. “Why does my toxin affect you so badly, but when you were sixteen you could still fight?”

 

“Your toxin… It is different. Instead of blurring images and muffled sounds, everything is clearer. It’s the difference between live music and a recording. Everything is so vivid, but… there is a difference between my memories from then and my memories now. Jonathan, what I am about to tell you is a tale of the monster that lives inside of me.” He nods vigorously, and leans forward, a child nearing the climax of a great action story.

 

“To complete the Rite of Passage, the League brings in a criminal. One must kill the criminal in front of the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul. I did.” Jonathan writes everything down.

 

“I didn’t stop there. After I completed my physical training, I continued to work with my abilities. They were still raw, and I still had trouble using them in battle. My first mission on my own, though, I used my power. It got out of hand, and I slit the throat of an innocent man. The man I was hunting was killed to, but… their screams as I sought them in the dark are a sound I will never forget. I felt… I felt as though I were my father, and they were me. I had, no, I  _ am  _ no better than him. So, I planned to leave.”

 

Jonathan stares at her again, this time longer. It was quite obvious that she had left, but he wanted to know everything. Since her starting, he’s filled up two pages of his notes, but he still hungers for more information from her. Everything about her former life fascinated him, and her name and journey were just the beginning.

 

“I spent years, waiting, training, for the right moment. A few months ago, Ra’s left, and left me in charge of the League. I waited a week, and then I left. And now I’m here.”

 

Jonathan scribbles something that comes out looking oddly close to Scarecrow’s writing; he disregards the abnormality. He main focus, currently, and for the rest of the night it would seem, is Kalevi. He can’t take his eyes off of her. 

 

Kalevi fiddles with her fingers for a moment, before finally deciding to look up at Jonathan. He’s still wearing his glasses, and she wants to see his eyes clearly; so, tentatively, she takes them off. Jonathan doesn’t move, just eyes her curiously. She whispers, “take off your jacket.”. Jonathan cocks his brow, but does so anyway. The mood hasn’t changed, and Kalevi is grateful for it. She doesn’t want anything sexual from Jonathan, she’s not sure she can handle it just yet, but she wants to show him her scars with an equal playing field. She doesn’t expect him to be littered with scars as well, though; when he takes off his shirt next, she inhales sharply before doing the same. 

 

Jonathan opens his mouth to speak, but she wants this time to herself. She holds out her hand, motioning for Jonathan to give his over. She takes it over the larges scar she has, on her abdomen, somewhere a medical doctor would call her right hypochondriac, just below her ribs. 

“Don’t look at them, please.” It’s not a request, or an order, but her voice is so tender and raw that Jonathan fears that the endless screaming she’d been subjected to has affected her voice permanently. He looks her in the eye, nonetheless. His fingers brush over her wrapped breasts, and he feels another heavily raised scar beneath the edge of the wrap. He doesn’t ask questions, though, and Kalevi is grateful for that beyond words.

 

“This one, Ra’s gave it to me the first time we sparred. I didn’t know how to use a sword properly yet, and he punished me when I lost.” His heart lurches, and she moves his hand to her side. There is another scar, not as raised as the former two he’d felt. He doesn’t move his hand, but she presses his palm against her side, almost leaning into it. Where he once would’ve used the moment to inject her with a fear toxin, Jonathan lets Kalevi move his hand where she wants it, all the while relishing the contact.

 

“Another member of the League. I missed a spot when I cleaned the floor. Ra’s saved me, but not before he got his dagger close to me.” A spike of rage lights within Jonathan, and Scarecrow as well. He wants to give this Ra’s al Ghul and anyone else in the League of Shadows the most concentrated dose of his toxin and watch them writhe until their hearts can take no more. Kalevi continues to move his hand around. 

 

“These,” there is a speckle of scars, each no more than a few centimeters in width and in only a concentrated area, not far from her umbilical scar. “My father tried to bleed me, he was drunk, and… He took a salad fork and stabbed me. I think I lost my voice. That was the first time I really used my power against him.” She looks away from Jonathan’s eyes, but he uses his thumb and forefinger to direct her chin back to him. “It’s okay. He’s dead.” She nods gently, and moves his hand to her left forearm. There are jagged scars all along, and as she moves his hand up, along her shoulder, they taper off, like a piece of music meant to get quieter as the end comes along. 

 

“The bats in the rafters. Ra’s had cut me the day before, while we were training on the ice. I cleaned the rafters the next day and tore the scab open. The bats… they got scared and tore at the blood. I dislocated my shoulder in the fall, and Ra’s set and wrapped it himself. I forgave him for that.”

 

“You shouldn’t have.” Scarecrow mutters angrily. Even Jonathan is taken aback by the sudden outburst. Scarecrow’s hand tightens on Kalevi’s shoulder, bringing her closer. Kalevi yelps, but does nothing to stop the insane man. He pulls her back to his chest and wraps a hand around her throat. It feels like Jonathan, though, so she is not as afraid as she should be. Scarecrow’s arm rests across her torso, fingers mulling over each scar, even the ones she had yet to tell the stories for.

 

“I will show them their greatest fears, and when I am done, the League of Shadows will be no more. They will have fallen to the Master of Fear, and the daughter they forgot.”

 

They lay in silence for a moment, before Jonathan feels deft fingers running along the small scars on his bare chest. “Do you want to know?” He asks quietly. She shakes her head.

 

“Another night.” Jonathan puts his chin on top of Kalevi’s head, inhaling her scent. The moment of peace lasts only a few seconds, before Kalevi moves and holds Jonathan’s head in her hands; due to their small size, however, her fingers hardly graze his cheekbones. He smiles as he leans into her touch. 

 

“Don’t close them,  _ please. _ ” She stares into his eyes until she places gentle kisses beneath both of them. Her lips are tender, and Jonathan wants them on his again. His large hand wraps around her wrist and places it on his chest. She feels his scars again, staring at them, oblivious to Jonathan’s movements. He takes her face in his hand, staring at her two different coloured eyes. “You’re so infatuated with my own, but yours are the interesting ones.” Kalevi frowns. “What is it?”

 

“This is a night of truth, and there’s one more thing I haven’t told you yet.” She moves away from Jonathan, and removes the blue coloured contact, leaving both of her eyes green, rimmed with spectacular gold. Jonathan is breathless. “I’m sorry. I lied so much and you brought me into your home, I don’t deserve this kindness.” She holds out her arm. “One more.”

 

_ Do it Jonny. Do it.  _ Scarecrow grins, and before Kalevi can move from him, the fear toxin is in her blood once again.


	6. It's Cold This Pain, Burning Inside My Veins

 

_ The air leaves her lungs the moment the plunger drops. Blue filters her vision, and she feels cold. So cold. She’s clawing for air, but it doesn’t come. She knows that if she doesn’t breathe soon, she’ll suffer asphyxiation, but there’s the prominent fear; _ fear that the moment she opens her lips they’ll be flooded with icy water. _ Then she feels a hand on her, and she feels safer, less afraid. She breathes in, but the icy fog of her vision hasn’t left. Everything is blue, and oh how cold she feels.  _

 

_ The face she sees isn’t the one she wants, though. It’s not even Scarecrow. Ra’s al Ghul. She smacks him, and scurries away. There is ice everywhere, but she still backs into an invisible barrier. Ra’s comes closer to her, his face contorted in anger; t _ here’s a flash, a face, handsome and chiseled, blue eyes, then it’s gone again _. Ra’s is coming closer, hilt of his sword in one hand and blade of hers in the other. He holds the hilt at her face. “Take it.” _

 

_ She shakes her head harshly, the braid of her now blonde hair flicking across her shoulders. Hot air shows in front of her lips. Was it all just a dream? Had she dreamt Jonathan? _

 

_ “Stand and  _ **_fight_ ** _ , Kalevi.  _ **_Fight._ ** _ ”  _

 

“Jonathan!!  _ Jonathan!!” _ He’s there, though. He’s there, holding her down with one hand while simultaneously trying to pull his watch off of his wrist as Kalevi’s energy pushes it into the air. Then, as soon as it was there, it was gone. Now, she’s crying, fighting him all while nestling into his warmth. She’s still cold. Her skin is cold. 

 

“You  _ promised  _ Jonathan.  _ You promised. _ ” She accuses. He shushes her, rocking gently as he runs his hand through her hair. “I know I did. I know.” After a moment, she notices that he’s wearing a different suit. His hair has been washed, and his done. 

 

“How long?” Jonathan doesn’t answer. “Jonathan, how long was I under?”

 

“Four days.” He mutters. Kalevi pushes off of him and stands. He’s taken her wrap off and pulled on of the large sweatshirts over her, but she’s still mostly nude; a blush washes over his cheeks. “I have a court hearing for one of my patients today, Kalevi. I’d like you to stay here.” She turns, almost enraged that he would even insinuate that she stay home, like some housewife he’d just married, but she sees the benefits in listening to him. Slowly, she nods a ‘yes’.

 

“I’ll be back around around four. There’s food in the pantry, and I have a cell phone on me if you need anything, okay?” He stands and turns to leave, but she grabs his hand before he can make it to the door. Then, she pulls him down by the nape of his neck and kisses him. He kisses back without a moment's hesitation. 

 

When he pulls away, both of their cheeks are flushed. “Don’t question me, but where can I find the cleaning supplies?”

 

Jonathan comes home only six minutes late. Kalevi is in the shower, singing. That much he can decipher. What he cannot decipher, however, is what she is singing. It’s certainly in a different language, but what shocks him is how melodic her voice truly is. She could be a siren. 

 

He sets his briefcase by the tattered old sofa, and continues down the hall. He stops by the bathroom door, and rests the back of his head against the wall. She doesn’t stop singing. Jonathan pulls off his blazer, and unbuttons his shirt before opening the bathroom door and frightening Kalevi. She’s clad in nothing but a towel wrapped around her breasts, and is brushing through her long hair with her fingers. He pulls her hands apart and kisses her deeply. She lets out a shocked yelp before pushing him off. He stands, confused. 

 

“You scared me.” She exhales heavily. 

_ Good.  _ Scarecrow thinks. Jonathan, on the other hand, has never been more infatuated with Kalevi. The small amount of fear in her eyes, her raw and smooth skin, the wet hair clinging to her scar covered shoulder, and water dripping just above her vibrant emerald eyes, all of it makes him want her more. 

 

“Jonathan, I’ll be done in a minute, I promise. Will you hand me that sweatshirt?” It smells like her, but also like him. It takes him a moment to realise that she’s been using his shampoo and conditioner each time she’s showered.  _ She needs to go home;  _ but Jonathan doesn’t want that. He wants her  _ here _ , with him. Where she’s  _ safe _ .

 

**_Is_ ** _ she safe here, Jonny? We- _

 

Jonathan races out and shuts the bathroom door behind him harshly. “No, _you._ If _you_ had not given her that last dose of toxin, she would be fucking _safe._ Fuck!”

 

Kalevi flinches when she hears the door slam. Her fear only grows when she hears Jonathan talking to Scarecrow. Then, his footsteps fade. She calms down after a moment. 

 

She leaves the bathroom with the sweatshirt on, and finds Jonathan’s blazer next to the door; with an exasperated sigh, she picks it up and carries it into Jonathan’s room.

 

She’s never been inside his room before; it’s more clean and put together than the rest of the house, with a four poster bed that looks as though it hasn’t been used in three weeks. She lays his blazer at the foot of the bed, folded neatly. She doesn’t linger, though she wants to. Oh, how she wants to. Jonathan could be heard rooting around in the kitchen, which was never a good thing. The man couldn’t cook to save his life, though in his situation it was usually someone else trying to save their life. 

 

“Jonathan, darling, stop trying to cook for me -” On her way down the stairs, another flash of memories bombarded her and she slipped on the staircase. She screamed, calling for Jonathan. The man was at her side, picking her up and holding her head tenderly. “Easy, Kalevi. You’re okay.”

 

She stutters out his name. “I can see the lightning, Jonathan. It’s still there…”

 

“Come here.” Jonathan pushes her to stand, and wraps his arm around her shoulders; he’s much too tall next to her to lean down and hold her by the waist, lest he pick her up. The touch is far to unfamiliar even now for him to do such a thing, however. 

 

Kalevi leans into his touch, grateful for his support. 

 

“I can’t help you in the way that you want me to, Kalevi.”

 

_ If you care so much, maybe you should create an antidote.  _ Scarecrow mocks. The idea, though, sounds remarkable in his head. “I should.” He whispers. “That’s brilliant!” He leaves Kalevi shivering on the sofa and heads down into his lab, and does not come out for several days.

 

Kalevi feels the effects of the serum waste away for what she hopes will be the last time. She lies on the sofa, still shaking in gentle tremors. Light doesn’t flash across her eyes, but a gentle rumble of thunder resonates in the back of her mind. It’s become so regular, that it aids her in falling asleep. She sleeps off the remainder of the toxin. 

 

When Jonathan finally reemerges from his lab, he finds the house once again, cleaned, but Kalevi is nowhere to be found. A moment of panic settles in, and a different, scared voice, resonates within his head.  **She’s gone to the police. She’s gone to the police. She’s gone to the -**

 

“It’s not true.” He says aloud. It’s not. There’s a note on his kitchen table, in neat cursive.

 

_ Jonathan,  _

_ I’ve gone home. Do not fear, I’m still here in Gotham, but I can no longer  _

_ stay in your home. If you wish to see me, come to this address. I’ll be waiting. _

 

At the bottom of the note is a street address, with a series of numbers and a brand new Gotham area code. Given the state of the note, Jonathan assumes that it’s been left at least twelve hours prior; he sighs. Not only is he exhausted, and hungry, but he finds himself missing the quiet Finnish singing that accompanied Kalevi when she cried, or when she cleaned. He hadn’t even noticed her absence. 

 

Quickly, he takes the cell phone from its place connected to the wall outlet and taps in the numbers on the paper. She picks up after only three rings. “ _ Hello?” _ She hasn’t been speaking English recently, that much he can tell. Her accent’s returned in full force.

 

“Kalevi?”

 

“ _ Jonathan? _ ” Her accent was distorted so awfully that it came out Jhawn-a-tan. He cringed outwardly. 

 

“Yes, I called to apologize for my absence in your last days here. I hope I wasn’t part of your reason for leaving.” The words are foreign on his tongue, but, somehow, he means them. On the other end, he hears Kalevi laugh softly. “No, no, I… Well I think you should come over. I’ll cook you a hot meal, it might be better than the sorry amounts of soups you have in your cabinets.” 

 

So Jonathan agrees to be at her home in three hours, after a well needed shower.

 

When Jonathan knocks on her door, Kalevi is busy attempting to lift her weight above the bar hung on the trim of the doorway.

“Enter.” She grunts. Once again, her accent filters through, uncontrolled. Jonathan walks through the door, and his attention is immediately on Kalevi. Her body has somehow become smaller, or perhaps it’s the lack of the too-big sweatshirt that lays on the floor beneath her. She grunts one last time before falling to the floor. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be a little late, I heard that’s what people do here.” 

 

“I’m punctual. I suppose you’ll have to get used to it.” Kalevi stares at him with a smirk as she uses the sweatshirt to dry the sweat on her brow. “Can I ask what you are doing?”

 

“Your fear toxin left my muscles to atrophy, so I have to build them up again. Cleaning your filthy home was just the first step.”

 

Jonathan cocks his brow, and walks with her into the bathroom. Apparently, she had expected him much later than she’d said. 

 

“You cleaned my home because you were weak?” She nods.

 

“When I was a child, Ra’s al Ghul made me clean the entire hideout to build my endurance. It worked, obviously, but your fear toxin and the amount of weeks I spent lying about in fear ruined my body.” Scarecrow laughed loudly in the recesses of Jonathan’s mind.  **Shut up.** Jonathan thought. He didn’t enjoy the thought of him being the cause of Kalevi’s sudden weakness. Nevertheless, he elected not to say anything.

 

“Jonathan, darling,” there it was again,  _ darling. _ His abstinence from the conversation remained intact. “Would you care to leave me? There’s dinner in the kitchen. I’ll be out in a moment.” He realized why she was being the way that she was. Here he stood, happy that someone had made him dinner without much fuss. Scarecrow has no witty remarks, almost like he, too, is in mild shock. Nevertheless, Jonathan wanders into the kitchen, and indeed finds that the delightful smell of her home is derived from the scent of the food she’s prepared. There’s a loaf of what appears to be rye bread, and simmering on the stove is a creamy soup that smells of fish. Jonathan’s lips edge up in a soft smile.  _ Her heritage has never escaped her, no matter how much she fears her past.  _ Scarecrow remarks.

 

“No, it hasn’t.” He doesn’t hear the lovesickness in his voice, but Kalevi does. She’s pulling on a thin top that rides up her torso, and wearing tight jeans that leave her midriff well exposed. Jonathan suspects she feels underdressed, next to him, given the redness of her cheeks. 

 

“I hope you don’t mind,  lohikeitto was a childhood favourite of mine. I can make something else, if you’d like though.”

 

“No, no this is lovely, Kalevi. Absolutely wonderful.”

 

It’s her turn to smile. “Well, then, let me set the table and serve dinner. There’s something I want to discuss.”


	7. Walk The Streets Just Staring Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really short chapter guys, i'm sorry. i actually hated writing this chapter, i don't like it at all lmao

 

“No.” Jonathan’s voice is stern, and he means the word.

 

“Okay.” 

 

He’s shocked at her compliance. She’d been so keen on the idea, after all. The look in her eyes said it all. But moving in with Kalevi would have meant attachment, and while he had feelings for her, he was not yet ready to admit them in the way that Kalevi was. Kalevi was sure, her mentality on the subject much like a child’s; he didn’t like it. There was an eagerness to her that he didn’t appreciate. Kalevi knew it, too. She knows how quickly she’s pushing this, and now she knows exactly how uncomfortable it makes Jonathan. 

 

“Okay then.” The meal passes in silence. Jonathan has never been a man for small talk, and, having grown up around silent assassins, neither is Kalevi. The two relish the silence. 

 

When they finish, there is a silent agreement to do the dishes together, and then Jonathan leaves. Kalevi isn’t sure he’ll come back. 

 

There is a simplicity to normal life that Kalevi hates. Rather, not the simplicity, but the monotony. Each day is a routine, one mapped out from teen years, even in a strange city like Gotham where villains run rampant. It isn’t until she calls Jonathan again that life in Gotham becomes truly interesting. 

 

“ _ Hello? _ ”

 

“Jonathan? It’s Kalevi.”

 

“ _ Ah, Kal. _ ” It dawns on her that this is not Jonathan, but Scarecrow. Jonathan was much too well spoken to ever call her  _ Kal _ . 

 

“Can you put Jonathan on?”

 

“ _ I’m sorry, Jonathan isn’t here right now, and I’m rather busy. Would you rather call back later, or deal with me _ ?” A scream sounds off in the background of the call, and Scarecrow grunts in annoyance. Kalevi winces. 

 

She asks, “where are you?”

 

“ _ Arkham Asylum, medical wing. _ ”

 

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Without another word, she presses the red image in the center of her cell phone, and goes about making two sandwiches with two bottles of water. 

 

Within ten minutes of her phone call to Jonathan, she is closing the door behind her with car keys in hand. She doesn’t know why she wants to see him so badly, but something is gnawing at her, and some piece of her puts Jonathan/Scarecrow in the center of the feeling. 

 

The front of Arkham is dark and foreboding, though where the appearance would often scare others off, Kalevi feels no such fear. Her heart is almost giddy, in fact, as she walks up the steps and enters. There is a guard sitting behind a large glass window, his feet on his desk and coffee next to his ankle. A prime accident waiting to happen. Nevertheless, her hand stayed perfectly still, and she informed the guard that she was here to see someone very specific; a Doctor Jonathan Crane.

 

“You see, he hasn’t eaten dinner yet and I’m afraid he’s over working himself.” The guard raises his brow, as though he wasn’t sure Jonathan could ever get a girlfriend, much less a woman like Kalevi. 

 

“Just call him, let him know I’m here. He’ll be expecting me.” The guard nods softly, and moves to the telephone. Some part of Kalevi doesn’t expect him to answer, but he does, and she’s soon let through after Jonathan comes to collect her. It’s Jonathan that kisses her cheek, Jonathan that takes her arm and thanks her for coming, and Jonathan that waves politely at the guard as they walk past, but it’s Scarecrow that grins when the couple is out of sight and earshot. 

 

Jonathan’s office is tidy, much tidier than his home, but she doesn’t have long to admire it before Scarecrow shoves her against the wall, her stomach against the wall, hand wrapped around the nape of her neck. The bag in her hand fell to the ground, and her instincts kicked in. While not truly returned to her former strength, Kalevi has little trouble implementing her training on the situation.

 

She exhales slowly, allowing things around her to shift before she feels Scarecrow’s hand loosen on her neck; her energy wraps around the cufflinks still attached to his blazer, allowing Kalevi room to turn, and knock Scarecrow to the floor. She’s on top of him in an instant, blue haze surrounding her fingers. “Give me Jonathan, or all of your hard work  _ vanishes _ .” There’s malice in her voice, and in a moment of anger and resentment, Scarecrow relents control to Jonathan, who launches into Kalevi’s arms, holding her close. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs. Kalevi laughs softly, her fingers brushing through Jonathan’s hair as the energy fogged about them dissipates.

 

“It’s okay, Jonathan. I-” Her words are cut short by the fluorescent lights in the hall, and the dim lights in the office shutting off, replaced by harsh red lights. Sirens begin to blare, causing Kalevi to flinch; however, Jonathan just sighs in annoyance, as though such a thing happened many a time before. 

 

“Come on, then, let’s get you outside. The night guards will take you across the river.” He stands, his hand clutched tight to her. Scarecrow has taken over now, but the image is not as terrifying as it once was. There’s a certain comfort to seeing the animosity and obsession in his eyes, a comfort that both of them still have trouble placing. All tenderness has receded, as he growls at her to follow him. 

 

The halls are chaos, with guards and patients running in either direction, Kalevi finds her grip on Scarecrow’s hand faltering many a time, until eventually she finds herself letting go and getting lost in the crowd. Several patients, some of whom she recognizes as full blown criminals, grin at her dangerously. Whereas fear would have gripped her, though, she feels confidence. A precursor to arrogance, Ra’s al Ghul had once told her. Times before now, she would not have felt such an emotion, however, she feels it now. Pride wells inside of her as the handles on the doors fly off, blood spraying her in each direction as she spins, a hostile smile on her lips. 

 

Screams fill her ears, a blue haze covering her eyes and the skin on her hands, over the crimson stain anyway. Her heart flutters in excitement, her hands opening and closing in a rhythmic pattern, blunt force and blue haze murdering self admitted patients and certified crazies alike. She’s never felt better.

 

The feeling, and moment, are gone as fast as they come. Bodies fall around her, but there is no pride. There is only regret, and self hatred. The blue fog fades fast, and that is when she sees him. Through tears and blood, she sees Jonathan’s bright blue eyes; it’s not Jonathan, rather Scarecrow. His eyes are ablaze with delight. He has come too late to see her in the middle of it all, though. 

 

She hears his footsteps, the light click of the heel of his shoes against the floor; she sees his body, his long fingers stretching out to her, his lithe form taking her, dragging her along with him into some room, an office it seems to her. It registers, but she does not appreciate it. Everything moves so slowly, and her heart, it beats in her throat. Each movement, each breath, each glance, emotion, it all feels like the first time.

 

Jonathan is rushing about, taking each spare second gifted to them to get Kalevi’s bloodied clothing off, and wipe her skin with what clean fabric there is left. When he finishes, it’s as though a dam breaks. Kalevi falls to her knees, the silent tears now growing audible. Her body shakes violently, if Jonathan were not wise to her situation, he would assume her shaking stemmed from the cold floor, but he knew better. She had not killed in months, had worked very hard to keep from doing so, and he had found her over bodies innumerable. There was no time, though. The inmates had been aiming to get out, and even with a toxin dispenser on either wrist, remaining stationary would cost them. Outside, the red lights flickered, signaling a power outage. Jonathan cursed. His vision glared, Scarecrow laughing wildly in his head. There was only one way out that would protect both he, and Kalevi. 

 

Scarecrow took control.

 

Kalevi felt hands at her torso, hauling her up and pulling her along. Everything sped up, Ra’s al Ghul’s voice ringing in her ears. 

 

**You’re not a coward. Pick. Yourself. Up.**

 

“No, no, no,” she begins to shake her head, stopping in the middle of the hall, holding her head in her hands. Scarecrow fights Jonathan’s urge to scoop her up, but in the end does so anyway. She’s wearing his blazer, and a pair of sweatpants he pulled off a patient that seemed close to her size, even though they bulge quite a bit, he suspects that he can sneak her past guards without much of a fuss; the concentration will not be on a doctor and a frightened woman who may or may not have been attacked. Nevertheless, Scarecrow is scowling as Kalevi pushes away from him, moving to run, but Scarecrow grips her arm and pulls her close. Jonathan is no where in his eyes, and that only serves to scare her more. 

 

She fights him, but Scarecrow only holds her tighter. He delights once more in her appearance, the fear clouding her emerald irises, the way her body is folded in on itself as she tries, and fails, to pull herself from his tight grasp he has on her arms. She begs though, using her voice, and while she has become so fearful that she’s forgotten to use English, Jonathan understands.

 

“ _ Hyvä Jonathan, _ ” He virtually pushes Scarecrow out of his place, feeling his heart speed up as he holds Kalevi rather than pulls her toward him. Her body relaxes only slightly, just enough to allow Jonathan to scoop her up and carry her out of the building the rest of the way. 

 

The building is in chaos, but it’s nothing compared to the courtyard; gunshots ring out, but both Jonathan and Kalevi fear that it’s not the guards that are winning. Jonathan disregards the fighting, as neither he nor Scarecrow wish to dignify the land with the prowess of their minds, and, to Jonathan, much more pressing matters were at hand. 

 

Kalevi had moved back to silent tears, her face nuzzled against Jonathan’s chest. Her body has traded shaking over tears to shivering in the cold. Jonathan agrees silently; Gotham has never been a warm place, even in the summer. He keeps pushing, though. His fingers grip Kalevi’s thigh and shoulder tighter as they near the docks with a waiting ship, near pulling its anchor up to leave. The doctor is surprised that one would even stay, but upon seeing who is there to greet them, he becomes less surprised.

 

Upon closer inspection, he sees a yacht rather than the usual ferry. Suspicion arises within him, but when he sees who awaits to greet him, suspicion melts into anger. Scarecrow grins with felicity. Kalevi doesn’t move her head, and for that he’s grateful beyond mention; for at the stern, looking down on the supposedly frightened couple, are two men clad in black, swords at their sides. When Jonathan boards, animosity bombards him. A man sits, facing Jonathan, a mustache overgrown to hang off of his chin. He wears a neatly pressed suit, lavender button up with a matching handkerchief. He smiles at Jonathan, and the doctor knows exactly who sits before him.

 

The man he’s been dealing with for almost a year, the man the woman in his arms fears more than her own memories. 

  
_Ra’s al Ghul._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:
> 
> Hyvä - please


	8. A Shadow of Dorian Gray

 

Jonathan’s arms almost gave out, and Kalevi could tell. He let her down easy, still, though when she laid eyes on their supposed saviour, she wished she’d been left back in the asylum. Her heart lurched at the sight of Ra’s, his neatly pressed suit, the grin on his lips, and, a new edition, the guards on either side of him. He must’ve really hated or feared Gotham, or both. 

 

“Jonathan, what is this?” The man at her side took her hand in his, in an attempt to reassure her. His cufflinks only dig into his skin, causing him to hiss in pain. Ra’s laughed at the sight. “You run from me only to be brought right back. It’s kind of poetic, don’t you think,  _ daughter _ ?” The way he stalked around her made her nervous, like an animal being auctioned off. She was not an animal, though, not by any means, and herself be damned, she would happily reap the consequences of her next actions. 

 

In a second of thinking, Kalevi pushed Ra’s back with her bare hands and made to jump off the side of the ship. Hidden members of the League lept from the shadows, soon enough to stop her; they forced her to her knees, arms held out and at an angle that would immediately alert them to any movement, and lead to the breaking of her arms. Jonathan moved to stop them, but his feet stopped moving of his own accord. Rage filled him, and that was enough to know that he was about to lose control. 

 

Kalevi spat on the ground in front of her as Ra’s took a step toward her. He ignored her show of disrespect, however, and tilted her chin up. “I haven’t come to Gotham for you. I really don’t care what you do, because if you do anything to stop me, I’ll kill Crane.”

 

Scarecrow looks on, and while Kalevi doesn’t make eye contact with him, he sees the fear in her eyes at the mention of his death. Neither he, nor Jonathan, are sure of what reaction to give. 

 

Kalevi muttered something in Finnish, making Ra’s chuckle. The difference in their expressions is the difference between black and white, but it’s obvious to both of them that the calm would not last. He motioned with his hand, following the movement up with “take her to the brig, I have something to discuss with Doctor Crane.” He turned, just as the guards lifted Kalevi and began to drag her down the stairs. The last thing she heard before her plan went into motion was the dark voice of Scarecrow correcting Ra’s on the saying of his name. 

 

Once the sound of voices was gone, Kalevi used her power to pull the metal knives off of the League members and slit both of their throats. Though this time, she is not lost to a foreign feeling, and felt every inch of regret as she watched her brothers fall to the ground, dead. Still, she took the knives and went about, looking for an escape. After finding a raft, Kalevi tied it to the yacht, ready to be cut away if her plan failed. Armed with daggers, and a want to retrieve Jonathan from Ra’s clutches, she hurried up the step, sneaking along the deck until she heard Scarecrow’s almost southern drawl. It sounded to her like he was making a deal with Ra’s. 

 

“I can’t let you leave with Kalevi. I’ve been looking for her for months, and now that I’ve found her, in your arms, not to mention, I cannot let her go. Another of my pupils left me, in a much louder fashion than that woman, and I need her for the upcoming battle. And after that, she’ll be returning with me.”

 

Jonathan flashed across the icy blue irises, but Scarecrow won over easily, it seemed. Kalevi watched for another moment before curling her fingers and pulling Ra’s sheathed sword over to her. She could feel the weight before she even put a hand on the blade. When she did pull it out, however, it was not Ra’s sword she saw, but one that seemed crafted just for her. Ra’s laughed. 

 

“I had that made for you when I was on my journey. You left before I could give it to you though. If you can defeat me, you can keep it. Maybe I’ll even let you leave with the Scarecrow.” Kalevi frowned.  _ He knew all along. He  _ **_knew._ ** Ra’s stood, pulling his own blade from a hidden sheath. Slowly, as if not to frighten her, he turned, and pointed his blade toward her. 

 

“Stand and fight.”

 

Flashes of the fear toxin came flooding back to Kalevi, the nightmares, the memories she hadn’t even had of Ra’s taunting her with the words, almost like a premonition of a battle to come.  _ This battle.  _ Kalevi dropped the daggers she’d been holding, and stood to face Ra’s al Ghul, for once hoping that this battle against him would be her last. Scarecrow stood, but the fear in his eyes gave way to Jonathan. She smiled at him, not one like he’d ever seen before, a sad smile this time. As though she didn’t expect to smile at him ever again. 

 

“I lose when I die, Ra’s.”

 

“You’ll wish you were dead.” He held his sword out. “Play fair, Kalevi. No powers. You know the rules.”

 

She stayed silent, stalking forward with murder in her eyes. Ra’s only grinned in response. They moved quickly, blades meeting with loud clashes, and Kalevi attempted to end the fight after a few moments of squabble. Ra’s would not have it, though. The moment her blue haze wrapped around his blade, he let go of the hilt, and swung with his fist. It collided with Kalevi’s gut, still absent of muscle, and she let out a loud  _ ‘oomph _ ’ sound. Jonathan flinched, though she did not see it. After, he picked up the blade and swung at Kalevi, cutting her cheek open and knocking her further to the ground. 

 

She made her way to her feet, though, using her power to once again rip the blade from his hand, and she then began trading blows with Ra’s. Their footing shifted multiple times, each with Kalevi losing ground. Ra’s placed another blow on her stomach, then another across her cheek; blood began to pour from her nose as Ra’s’ fist landed on the bridge between her eyes. She cried out in pain when her master knocked her to her knees. Ra’s delivered a final blow to her chest, robbing her of her air, and the drug her up by her throat. Kalevi clawed and pulled at Ra’s wrist, while, unbeknownst to him, his sword was being brought into the air in the same manner as Kalevi, blue energy wrung around it. 

 

“You’ve been a disobedient daughter, Kalevi. You’ll pay for it.”

 

“I don’t think so.” She choked out; blood coated her lips, but it didn’t stop her from using her power to plunge the sword through his gut, allowing her to fall to the ground coughing blood. Scarecrow was fast to act, using his foot to push Ra’s al Ghul further away from the woman suffocating on her own blood. He then pulled her arm over his shoulder, though given her height he ended up carrying her once he got to the bottom of the stairs, even though he detested the notion alone. 

 

Kalevi felt Jonathan pick her up, and once more rested her head on his lapel. 

 

“Jonathan…” Her voice was not much more than a fading wisp of sound. Scarecrow stopped. “My sword… Bring…” She started coughing again, spurring Jonathan forward to tell her to be quiet and to rest. He went over, moving carefully around Ra’s as the man groaned and moved in a futile attempt to remove the blade from his gut, somewhere he thought to be in the descending colon area. Scarecrow grinned before using his foot to push Ra’s further down, effectively twisting the blade into his torso. The man cried out through grit teeth; while Ra’s suffered on his own, Scarecrow picked up the blue blade, crafted for Kalevi’s small and quick nature. He then carried on with their slow moving escape. 

 

Her vision blotted out more with each blink, and eventually she closed her eyes and fell unconscious to the rhythmic swaying of the raft. When next she woke, it was Jonathan’s eyes in front of her, not Scarecrows. From the look of it, not much time had passed, as she could still smell the foulness of the Narrows. “Come on, Kalevi. We have to keep going.” She allowed Jonathan to hoist her to her feet, and while she stumbled with each step, they made progress.

 

Further down, they caught sight of a police blockade. All traces of Scarecrow vanished in Jonathan’s eyes as he rationalised a plan. 

 

“You’ve been attacked, Kalevi. I’m going to tell the police that, and about my status at Arkham. They’ll likely take you to a hospital, okay?” 

 

Weakly, she nodded. Jonathan huffed in slight exhaustion, but continued on after hiding Kalevi’s sword beneath a tarp. He helped her further on, until they were stopped by a police officer. Kalevi’s head fell onto his shoulder, partially in the light of the police sirens. The office jumped, calling over several other officers and ordering that an ambulance be called immediately. The other officers moved about to take Kalevi from Jonathan, but he found himself unwilling to let her go so easily. 

 

A rather large man moved to take Kalevi’s hand and pull her into his arms, and while Jonathan allowed it to happen, he held onto her hand, lingering for more than a second too long before he turned and was met with the kind face of Detective James Gordon. Jonathan smiled politely. 

 

“Doctor Crane, I didn’t know that-”

“That I had a girlfriend? It’s a new development.” 

 

Gordon’s brow creased dramatically, though he brushed off Jonathan’s odd wording as it was natural. “Would you mind if I ask you some questions?”

 

“Well, I don’t mind, but I would like to make this quick.” 

 

A mixture of understanding and amusement flashed across Gordon’s face. “In all actuality Doctor Crane, I would like to question the woman you were with as well. Give me a call when she wakes up and I’ll come and question you both.” 

 

Jonathan was relieved, but, as always, kept it internalized. His mask of indifference was much easier to maintain when Kalevi was not around, given the immense emotional impact she’d had on him in the previous months. He offers a quick ‘thank you’ before joining Kalevi in the now arriving ambulance. The paramedics are reluctant to let him on, but Kalevi reaches out for him, and calmed down with each whisper from him on the way to the hospital.

  
  
  


Her stomach hurt. Not in the sense that she wished that she hadn’t eaten, but rather the sense in which she wished that she wouldn’t have to move until the pain faded away. Then there’s the matter of her face. When she opened her eyes, she found pain in blinking. It extended to her mouth, and when her tongue brushed the inside of her cheek she moaned in unreserved pain. From there, there is no reprieve. She found soreness in her arm, and only after forcing herself to move her head does she find the intravenous line placed oddly. An amateur’s placing, by the look of it, at least someone who hadn’t been a phlebologist long, or practised enough to do something right. The idea of ridding herself of the sore feeling spurred her to pull the line from her vein. She doesn’t so much mind the monitors around and between her breasts, what does bother her is that someone had deigned to get so intimate that they removed her clothing enough to spot all of the scars, keloid classified and regular alike. 

 

She sat in silence for a few moments before feeling about the bed. The sheets are of poor quality, and there was something sticking in her spine. After rooting around, looking for the source, she pulled a small board of buttons from the sheets. Each button has an image of a bed and a stick figure, all in different positions. Kalevi ran her thumb over each button, the contrast of the coarse board and semi-softness of the rubber buttons giving her some sensation of reality. Her thoughts of reality shifted, sifting through what she could remember. The feeling of Ra’s sword on her cheek, his fists in her stomach, on her face, around her throat. She released the board, allowing it to land on the sheets with a muted  _ thud  _ before feeling her cheek. The contact of her hand on the split skin, while anticipated, stung harshly. She hissed, instinctively away from the cause of the pain.

 

She then remembered Jonathan. The fear in the pit of her stomach that he was going to be hurt, hunted down by the League because of her. Because she rejected Ra’s’ offer.

 

Her thoughts fall away she heard the door open and shut softly, a rather ruffled and unwashed Jonathan holding a small styrofoam cup with a coffee stirrer rolling about in what she could assume was steaming black coffee, with only a small bit of sugar. Jonathan never did like creamer, despite Kalevi’s new obsession with it. Coffee and creamer was never something she got to enjoy before coming to Gotham. 

 

In spite of the pain, she laughed. This drew Jonathan’s attention, and he sat down the coffee to move to her side quicker. “You’re awake. I’ll go get the doctor.”

 

“Jonathan, wait.” Her voice dropped to a low whisper, so as not to risk anyone overhearing. Jonathan suspected it was just a bout of paranoia after the incident with Ra’s al Ghul. 

 

“My sword.”

 

“In your home, I had one of my colleagues make a sheath for it. Don’t fret, he won’t ask questions.”  _ Despite that being what he’s known for.  _ Scarecrow laughed. Jonathan resisted rolling his eyes as he kissed Kalevi’s forehead. “We can talk at length later, Kalevi. I promise.” He almost added the word  _ explain,  _ but he feared that would rouse too many questions, questions he could not, and refused to answer in such a public place. 

 

After a lengthy conversation with both doctor and police, Kalevi was reluctantly allowed to go home on the promise of bed rest and continued medication, monitored by Jonathan. Neither of them planned to follow through with the medication, however, and following telling Jonathan, Kalevi was pleased with his agreeing. 

 

Jonathan drove her home, helped her into the house, but after that, Kalevi swatted away his hand if he even offered to help. She removed her clothing and showered on her own, contemplating each movement she’d made since the hospital, and planning each movement henceforth. Each thought seemed impossible, each decision something she couldn’t fathom, and each led her back to what she should’ve done on the boat.  _ Kill Ra’s al Ghul. _

 

After exiting the bathroom, dressing in only a soft bathrobe with undergarments beneath, she found Jonathan in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee made in the pot. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. Jonathan glanced up at her. “You need to wash up too, you know. I could smell you across the room.” Jonathan laughed at this. 

 

“If you say so, then.” He stood, and pulled her in for a kiss, careful not to touch the cut on her cheek. Kalevi smiled at him. “Thank you.” He only offered a kind nod.

 

When Jonathan came out of the shower, the sound of the piano in the living room filled the hall. Even though he was only in boxer shorts and a thin white shirt that clung to his still damp body, he ventured in and listened to Kalevi sing. Her voice matched the perfectly tuned piano harmoniously, leaving Jonathan to a revelation he would discuss with himself later. 

 

Kalevi finished the song, and was about to move into another when Jonathan voiced a query about what she sang.

 

“It’s an old tale my mother used to sing to me at home.” She stood, gesturing to the sofa. Jonathan followed, allowing Kalevi to lay her head on his shoulder. “The first stanza, tells of a man who raised his status, and conquered all. Even the mountains in his land bowed to him. But there was one thing that had never bent to his will, and refused to do so. There was no army to conquer the river, and not even the king’s threats to trap it with stones could sway the river.

 

“So one day, the king went to the river, and he was broken. He wanted nothing more than for the river to surrender its power to him, but the river would do no such thing. So, he prayed to the gods every day. And every day, the gods told him the same thing. So, tired of the gods, the king went to seek the counsel of a witch.

 

“The witch told him the same thing, however.”

 

Jonathan shifted enough to give Kalevi a look of question.

 

“That the king must bear his heart to the river, and show that he had one. Only then would the river submit and allow him to cross. 

 

“The king did not know how to do this, however, and so he spent many months pouring over old texts trying to find a way to make the river bow to him without bowing the river. But he never found one. So, the king went to the witch and they spent many moons together, and each full moon they walked to the river to see if the river had changed its mind. Each time it did not, and so the king spent more moon cycles with the witch, and began to fall in love. Eventually, he realised this, and brought the witch back to the castle to marry her. She gave birth to a son.

 

“The night of the birth of their son, the river came to the king in a dream and told him to bring his wife to the shores. Even though he had fallen in love with the witch, he knew what was coming, and so did she. In the end, the king sacrificed the witch, his wife, to the river, and the river allowed he and his armies to pass. 

 

“When he returned home, the nursemaid asked the king what he would name the child now that his wife was dead. The spirit of his wife stood next to him, urging him to name the child Nadaan. In an attempt to follow one last wish from her before she passed on, he did so, and had the child christened. Many years later, he discovered why his wife had urged him to name the child so.”

 

Kalevi moved, straddling Jonathan so that she could whisper in his ear with her head rested on his shoulder. Jonathan held her close, not squeezing her as he normally would to keep her from crying out in pain. 

 

“Why did she make him name the child Nadaan? What was the name’s importance to her?”

 

Kalevi placed her lips on Jonathan’s ear.

 

“It was the name of the river.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone that can guess what inspired me to write the story about the king who crossed the river gets to request a one shot with an oc (i'm gonna put that thing up soon i swear lmao)


	9. Nighttime Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning; physical abuse, dubious consent to sexual acts
> 
> this chapter is going to end with a long needed revelation, but it's not going to be in a happy way my guys, i'm sorry

 

“The name means humility, in English. His son served as a reminder of the king’s true failure for the rest of the king’s life.”

 

Jonathan moved Kalevi from his lap and stood to collect his vibrating cell phone. He answered in cut ‘yes’ and ‘no’s, and when he was finished he looked at Kalevi in silent remorse.

 

“I have to go, I’m sorry.” He placed a soft kiss on Kalevi’s forehead, and when he pulled away, she was quick to grab the back of his head and kiss him harshly.

 

In the following days, Kalevi found herself longing for Jonathan’s taste of sugared coffee and raspberries, but he remained ever busy in the Asylum. Thanks to the recent breakout, Jonathan was doing more and more paperwork and dealing with patients and angry family members of now dead, or wounded guards.

 

And now, it was all over the news, every channel in Gotham, and each time she left the house to work, every single conversation she picked up held mention of the fabled _Bruce Wayne._ The same Wayne that owned the tower in the center of Gotham, the same Wayne that built the train that didn’t go into the Narrows, the train she hardly used in lieu of walking, or driving (of which she was fairly good at, having only ridden horses before). Bruce Wayne, the man who’d disappeared for years and was now back in Gotham, buying hotels and swimming with whores in pools.

 

Once, Kalevi would not have cared, but following the incident on the boat with Ra’s, Kalevi wanted nothing more than to meet the man. There was something in his eyes the media missed, the wisdom and knowledge gifted by a madman driven by the prospect of murder.

 

The television was on when she returned home from the local farmer’s market. It was the only location anymore where she could attain fruits and vegetables that tasted even remotely like the ones she’d had in Tibet. With the television on, she’d hoped that Jonathan would finally be home, and she could finally taste him again, but she was met with the sight of a very tired man. Jonathan’s hair was ruffled, and greasy, his suit was wrinkled, and on the table laid Scarecrow’s mask. Kalevi placed her bag of foodstuffs on the counter, and then turned to stare at the mask for several moments. Suddenly abandoning her want and need to kiss Jonathan, she asked him a question.

 

“Why didn’t Ra’s al Ghul kill you?”

 

Jonathan turned and stared, conflict evident in his eyes. The woman couldn’t tell if it was over the war of consciousnesses in his head, or whether or not to tell her the truth. She shot down the later option. “Jonathan, if you lie to me you might as well walk out the door. _Nyt._ ”

 

The conflict in Jonathan’s eyes died immediately. “Ra’s and I have a prior agreement.” Kalevi raised her brow at the statement. She inquired what the agreement stated.

 

“I gave Ra’s an entrance into Gotham, and a good sum of money, and he gave me access to the blue flower that fuels my research for the fuel toxin.”

 

Kalevi’s jaw snapped in place. The granite beneath her hands dug into the skin of her fingers, and the metal that was placed around her began to lift and bend into her blue haze. She was quick to let everything go, but it did not fall back into its own place. The sound of clashing metal filled the room, loud enough to fill the void that opened in Kalevi’s heart.

 

“ _How could you_?”

 

Jonathan’s own anger flickered across his face, but when he spoke next it was not Jonathan’s voice, but Scarecrow’s. He held her by the throat, pulling her small body up just enough to make her gag for air. His voice was harsh and gritty, nothing at all like the smooth drawl that was Jonathan’s; the woman felt her heart hammer inside her chest, full of fear. Scarecrow wasn’t grinning, however, but sneering as though she were a pup that had just pissed in the carpet.

 

“ _You think I’d stop my business just because_ he _loves you?_ ” His grip tightened as he tossed her to the floor and loomed over her. Kalevi, without regard for  Scarecrow, was using her power to pull a knife from the counter. Scarecrow saw, though, and took her wrists in his own. “ _I’m not Ra’s al Ghul, you pathetic girl._ ” He picked her up by her wrists, and shoved her against the wall. Kalevi’s bruises stung with each movement, causing her to cry out loudly. She cried for Jonathan, for his gentle touch in the stead of Scarecrow’s rough hold, his voice, so kind and encouraging, but Scarecrow was there to stay it seemed.

 

“Please… Please Jonathan come back to me.” Her voice was a mere whimper, but loud enough to make Jonathan’s consciousness beg Scarecrow to let go. The entity refused to relent his control, though. Kalevi was in his hands, and Scarecrow had not had her so terrified since his last use of the fear toxin. “ _Jonathan isn’t here right now. Maybe you should check in later, hm?_ ”

 

With that, Scarecrow picked her up and pulled her down the hallway. The bedroom door shut behind her, and everything clicked in her head.

 

“ _Jonathan says I can’t play with you like I want._ ” Kalevi felt his hand on her cheek, trailing down, first holding her by the nape of her neck, swinging her around so that the back of her knees hit the wooden frame of her bed, causing her to fall to the mattress with a soft _plunk_ sound. Scarecrow’s hand then wound around her throat, constricting just enough to give her a warning. If she were to move in any way that eluded to her fighting back, he’d hurt her. _Jonathan’s hand would hurt her._ She felt Scarecrow’s lips on her skin, just below her ear.

 

“ _I’ve been here every time Crane kissed you. I’ve heard every moan and scream, I know what makes you_ tick.” He had moved up to her ear but the last word, making her shiver in his hold.

 

“ _Normally, Jonathan would agree to using fear toxin during sex. He likes it. It arouses him. But you are off limits, Kal. And Jonathan doesn’t like hurting you like the other girls. So I’m going to have my own fun with you, Little One._ ” Kalevi flinched at the nickname, and at the prospect of what Scarecrow would do to her. Despite her fear, though, she offered little resistance to Scarecrow pushing his lips against hers. There was even a difference in the way the two kissed. Scarecrow was hungry, demanding; in his kiss, he pushed Kalevi’s back to the bed, moving his legs over her abdomen. His hand remained around her throat, though with each moment it was there, she found herself less adverse to the feeling.

 

Scarecrow chuckled darkly as he released her throat to go about undressing himself. When his jacket was off, his sleeves were rolled up, and several buttons had been undone, Scarecrow began to remove her blouse. The shoulder hung off on her right shoulder, so as not to show off the scars there. Scarecrow didn’t linger on the raised skin, though, rather, moved on to her bra, which was thrown from the bed, and allowed his hand to return to her throat. She felt his lips on hers in another rough kiss. Jonathan’s taste filled her, the coffee and raspberry jam she had become accustomed to buying for his toast in the mornings, but it was not Jonathan’s tongue that prodded at her, nor his teeth that nipped and tore at her now bleeding lip.

 

It was Scarecrow that pushed her jeans down after removing her boots, and Scarecrow that pushed his hand between her legs, albeit rather tentatively. His rhythm sped up though, in almost a punishing way. His fingers were smooth, an opposite to her own calloused ones, each movement felt like silk against her heat; the feeling was only amplified when Scarecrow tore away her undergarments and continued his ministrations. Kalevi let out loud moan at the feel of his fingers brushing her swollen clit.

 

Scarecrow’s hand tightened around her throat, allowing her only a small amount of oxygen. Her heart rate sped up, and fear spread through her eyes. Scarecrow grinned. _“There it is. Good girl._ ” He was practically purring at her now; his hand tightened around her throat until she closed her eyes, and did not open them for the rest of the night.

 

When next she opened her eyes, there was sunlight streaming in and warming her legs. The woman stretched, and realised that was was truly being warmed by the sunlight was not her legs, but the deep maroon blanket covering her legs. A groan escaped her as she sat up, rubbing her head. There isn’t any headache for her to try warding off, but the brightness of the sun, and the suddenness of it, makes her eyes hurt just a little. Next, when she looks off to the side, and into the mirror on the wall, she caught sight of all the bruises that litter her throat, and collar bone; she flinched slightly as she ran her fingers over each discoloration.

 

The door opened, distracting her for the meantime. It was Jonathan, she was sure of it. At the sight of her, he nearly dropped the cups of coffee he was holding. He merely set them on the dresser, perfect height for him, almost too tall for her, and walked to where she lay.

 

“I’m sorry.” There was a certain type of fear in his eyes, one that could only mean that he hated himself for what had transpired the night before. Tenderly, Kalevi placed her hand under Jonathan’s chin and turned his head toward her. “Jonathan, _I love you too_.”

 


End file.
